The night was a beautiful Friday night, and I was in my pickup truck enjoying the stars in a field at Partridge Run. I was parked right next to the end of Bradt Hollow Road. It was such a night, and I was so drunk. I probably would not be able to find my way up from down. I feel asleep early, maybe around 10:30 with a good feeling of all that alcohol I had consumed.

About 1:30 AM I was awoken by the beeping of a passing pickup truck. I did not think twice as kids do this all the time, when I'm camping out in the back of my pickup. Drunken kids in their cars do this all the time, trying to get a rise out of the camper. Another half hour or so passed. I have no real idea of the time, as I was so incredibly drunk. Then I hear another car horn. The same pickup truck that I had seen earlier stopped. It was flashing its headlights, roaring its engine, and honking repeatedly.

That didn't get much of an arousal from me. I was still pretty drunk at that point. That upset the kids even further. They clearly wanted to scare me off, probably knowing that I wasn't one of those who come up there to party and generally create a mess. I might just be one that would report me, and that was unacceptable to me. Next they start banging on the front hood of the truck, yelling "get the f@ck out of your pickup truck!"

That angered me greatly. I wasn't thinking too clearly right now, as I just had woke up and had consumed way too much alcohol. I responded by yelling back to them "get the f@ck out of here, you f@cking n1ggers." If there is something that you don't want to call a Neanderthal, it's to call them a n1gger. Being a blue collar Neanderthal, your anti-thesis is the black individual. They hate nothing more then blacks, and wish to put them in a place.

They wanted to put me in my place, and made it very clear to me. One of the kids yelled back, "What the f@ck did you call me?" He then yelled "get you gun, let's put this f@cker in his place." I got out of my truck. I started to plead with them, noting that I still had a few bottles of beer left. I said in a rather meek voice "take that and leave me alone." It seemed like the seconds where actually hours. They got out their gun and stuck it in my face. I will never know if it was loaded as they didn't shoot. They commanded me to get in my truck and get out of here.

In my drunkenness, I started yelling many things like, "do I know you." I think they knew I was very drunk, but they didn't want to be found out. Sticking a gun in somebody's face is a pretty serious crime. As soon as they arrived they where gone. I have really no idea who they where or why they really cared. They probably where kids, but my vision was so blurred and I was so drunk that I really didn't have much of a clue what was going on.

I know I quickly packed up my gear, forgetting my lawn chair and took off. I must have driven for several miles of dark wood's road, as I woke up in a totally different spot in my pickup truck in the morning. I knew I couldn't go home and tell my parents, as I they would never let me go out again. It was pretty frightening when I had to pass a car on the narrow road, as everything was so blurry and I didn't know if he was going to kill me. I spent much of the night in the truck, awake and shivering. I kept all lights off, and my radio as I didn't want to be found again.

Maybe none of this really happened or maybe it was just a terrible dream. I had been listening to the Easy Rider Soundtrack earlier in the day and it might have made me think this all up. I certainly could not tell this to the police, especially with the fact that I had driven so far so drunk. When I woke up in the morning, it was incredibly beautiful out with big blue skies everywhere. The world was such a different place.

I keep repeating to myself that this ain't Texas, but upstate New York. Things like these are not supposed to happen in the woods around my house, but I guess it goes to show what kind of trouble you can get into in your drunkenness, particularly if your pickup is well visible from the road. Do not ever, under any circumstances, call a Neanderthal a n1gger if you don't want to be shot. I doubt these kids where out to kill me, but getting a gun stuck in your face isn't fun.

You might think I have given up camping, at least in my pickup truck. I have not. I believe in living a full life, and am not intimated by the threat of ending up like George in Easy Rider. I figure that I want to live full free life, and if that means I will end up occasionally at the wrong end of a gun, so be it. I will from now on out camp a little bit farther from the road where I am not visible for all to see.