Right after I wrote that last post about my frustrating day with our onslaught of winter visitors, I heard a super duper loud engine close by. This was even louder than the race car driver's engine. I kept looking out windows trying to figure out where the sound was coming from, and then I saw this dune buggy in my back yard coming up out of the wash. The driver was trying to race it up the vertical hill and failing repeatedly. He was tearing up all the branches that my husband laid across the path to block people from coming down, and shredding the bushes.
I was furious. I ran out onto my porch in my bare feet and yelled, "Hey! Get off my property!"
Obviously, the guy couldn't hear me above the racket of his own engine. So, I ran in the house, put on some shoes, and ran as hard and fast as I could past the horrified and panicked horses. They were galloping around snorting and huddling in the far corner of the paddock. I ran down into the wash, and right then the guy's engine quit. I yelled, "What the hell are you doing? You're on my private property!"
I'm pretty sure I let out a few expletives I cannot repeat here. I was pretty amped up. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. These F'ers vacation here and just destroy our beautiful desert with their recreational vehicles, and they have no respect for anyone or anything. If there's a snake or a rabbit in their path, they just plow it down. They ride wherever they want, even in people's back yards.
The guy kept apologizing, but I continued to harangue him because I'm sick of this mentality that it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. People think they can apologize for their stupid decisions and everything will be okay. The guy interrupted my rant to say, "Look, believe me, I don't want to be here. I got stuck, and I'm trying to get out."
I said, "How did you get down here in the first place?"
He said, "I came up the wash."
I said, "This wash runs through a bunch of private properties. You shouldn't have been here in the first place."
He said, "I'm sorry. I don't know where I am. I own some land in Pennsylvania, so I understand why you don't want people trespassing on your property. Is there a road up there?"
I said there was, but I did not want him driving up there and flipping his vehicle. It was too steep. He said he could do it. I said I didn't want him to do it, because he was tearing up the hillside. He ignored me and started chucking the branches and logs and rocks my husband set there as a blockade aside. I said, "Stop! My husband put that stuff there on purpose."
He said, "I'll put it back when I'm done."
He then jumped in the dune buggy and started racing it up the cliff again. I backed away so that he wouldn't roll it on top of me. Right then, another snowbird neighbor showed up. He said he saw the commotion and saw me running out there, so he came down to make sure the guy didn't cause me any trouble. Another neighbor has told me I'm crazy for confronting these people, but there's just no time to call the police. They're gone by the time the police get here, and I want them to experience a negative consequence for their actions so that they won't keep coming back. I kind of bank on the idea that most men, and it is always men causing these types of problems, are not willing to hit a woman. If my husband confronted them, it might be a different story, and it has been in the past.
Anyway, this other neighbor calmed me down, and the dune buggy driver eventually made it to the top, but he drove off without putting the branches and logs and rocks back like he promised.
Why am I not surprised?