Born in Utah - 40.7606° N, 111.8881° W - Get Lost
HITCH CLUB
Gear’s strapped. Cooler’s questionably packed.
We rolled into camp like outlaws, dust clouds in our wake, trailers overloaded with debateable ideas. By sundown, we had a fire big enough to make Smokey the Bear sweat. Someone whipped out a wireless speaker. Minutes later we were doing chainsaw karaoke, revving solos to '80s hair metal. When the ranger showed up, we promised we'd turn it down, after just one more...
Flip 'em and rip 'em.
- ...At midnight, hunger struck. We fired up the flattop. Nothing tastes better than flapjacks and dirty "5-second-rule bacon" while coyotes join in with backup vocals. Sam flipped his cake so high it landed on the roof of the trailer. We left it there as an offering to the sky gods.
- Around 2am we started telling ghost strores, but every story had to include a mullet and made-up beer commercial. By morning, nobody knew where their shoes were, but everyone knew this: you don’t go off-road camping to follow rules. You come out here to write your own.