A short, true story about my experience going off roading at Anza Borrego Desert, way back in 2006. Wow time flies!
The jeep jerked from side to side as we drove down the jagged terrain. Our driver regaled us with stories from his youth.
“One time my Jeep rolled down a mountain side,” he said wiping the sweat from his bald head, “another time it tipped onto its side!”
With that said, I stared out the window hoping the terrain’s beauty could quell my jangled nerves. Death by off roading was not what I had intended for the day. The desert stretched to the horizon and the sun was beginning to touch the mountain peaks. Without roads or highways, we seemed lost, but we were anything but.
A dry breeze swept though my hair, but the hot seats made my thighs sweat. And with all the bouncing, my head struck the car roof.
“Ouch!” I said rubbing the area where a bruise was most certain to form.
Night came and chaos followed. Crowds huddled around the deep man-made trenches. Together we hollered and cheered the passing drivers, but something had stolen the silence. It wasn’t a jangling noise, but the thunderous roar of metal clashing with earth. Trucks, Jeeps, and Buggies crawled over the desert. One by one they bounced and rolled. At one point a car tilted backward before finally resting on its trunk.
As we returned to our campsite, we could still hear the engines’ revving and the headlights flashing onto the night sky. Once settled, we threw hotdogs and potato chips onto our paper plates. But, before we could retire into our tents, we were met with fireworks.
Blue, red, and orange sparks painted the sky. Their popping and crackling reawakened the excitement within us. It was a spectacular finish to long day.