By Andy Lamar

The hot August air moved quietly across the sand in the Mojave River basin as a row of Jeeps ground their way through the thick, dry, powdered earth that was their course this day. Engines so hot you could see waves of heat rising from the hoods of these mighty machines. Despite flaring temperature gauges and unrelenting rays of sun beating down on us and our transports, chumps were to be made this day, indeed.

Jessie, gallant commander of a blue Cherokee, hurled the first volley; the sound of his challenge echoing from each surrounding mountaintop. Casting my daughter from the driver’s seat, I, upon the great red beast, approached the monstrous ledge. There were no spoils to be had this day for the red one, though. As wisdom made the better part of valor, the great red one retreated, to try again another day.

Out of nowhere came the Mean Green Machine in all its glory, Master Kory at the wheel of this great sand-thrashing steed. With a few puffs of dust, they clear the ledge with nary a protest from either.

Princess Danielle approaches, taking command of the blue Cherokee of her father, and charges the ledge with all the spirit and courage a lady can muster. After several attempts, the ledge wins this day, but she’ll be back.

Jessie again hurls the second volley, echoing the next challenge across the sand-strewn valley for all to heed. The great red beast takes on the challenge, but succumbs to the great depths of sand and dirt below its great belly of steel. The Mean Green Machine of Kory and blue Cherokee of Pete attach themselves to each other with the mighty tensile strength of a yellow strap, so the red beast can pull against them to free itself from the clutches of its silicon captor.

Then we went back to camp, packed up, and went home.

The End.