The Ultimate Drive By Shooting

I probably shouldn't tell this story.  Someone will think I'm being condescending, or contemptuous.  And, perhaps I am.  But this just seems so egregious.

Everyone can agree that Americans are not walkers.  Right?  I mean, if you can go by motor, you will (go by motor).  Even if it is only half a block.  My own rule of thumb is two tenths of a mile—about 1,000 feet.  Ninety five percent of Americans will walk not one step further than that.  And, in southern Utah, where I live, my rule of thumb also applies to National Parks, of which there are not a few.  Which is fine, because in most places you can drive to the overlook, walk a few hundred feet, and get the view of Disneyland that you came for.

Anyway, we were at Point Imperial on the North Rim the other day.  We parked at the first spot on the horseshoe.  Which is to say that the view point features a paved loop with parking spaces forming a horseshoe at the top half of the loop.  The entire horseshoe is probably 200 or 300 feet in diameter and we parked at the very first slot on the right after entering the horseshoe.  We went out and walked down the rim for a while.  I don't know, a mile?  Forty or fifty minutes, an hour?  When we got back, we dropped a couple of items at the Chev and then walked up the horseshoe towards the main overlook.  At just that moment a big black new pick up truck—a diesel—roared into the horseshoe.  Texas.  The truck was from Texas.  The driver turned to the right and parked approximately near the Chev.  The guy slumped out.  A mammoth guy.  Texas-sized.  He left the truck running.  Rat a tat a tat.  He slouched up to the sidewalk and over to the rim.  He lifted the digital camera.  Kacheek.  Kacheek.  Fired a couple of rounds at the amusement park.  Turned.  Shuffled back to the truck, squeezed in, put it in reverse, mashed on the pedal.  A cloud of black exhaust.  Now forward.  100 feet.  One fifty.  To the apex of the horseshoe.  Into another parking spot.  Dragged himself out of the truck.  Left it running.  Shuffled to the overlook.  Raised the camera.  Kacheek.

I am not making this up.  I stood there and watched this.  I mean.  I stood out of the way.  God forbid you're in the way of these effers.  They'd run you down soon as look at you.  Now we can't even park at the overlook and shuffle our fat asses from one view to the next?  We have to drive?  One hundred feet?  I guess I'd better change my rule of thumb.  (Honestly, it makes me want to cry.  And, I'm not making that up either.)