Why I Am a Horrible Car Camper

I am a horrible car camper. 

You see, I love the outdoors, but sometimes I forget that car camping and backpacking are two totally different animals.  Backpacking is a minimalist recreational hobby, while car camping is more about just getting out there but still enjoying a lot of simple pleasures.  Because I am so used to living out of a backpack, when I go car camping, I often forget to pack basic necessities, such as a pancake turner to flip burgers.  Usually, while the others around us have big elaborate grilled meals with tiki torches and lanterns, Ben and I have small, simply grilled meals with our little headlamps to light the way. 

Besides kicking myself for the things left behind, the other reason I am a horrible car camper is because I often forget that a peaceful, serene experience is saved for backpacking miles into the wilderness and not for a campsite that can be easily accessed by a car full of alcohol or children or other things, like chainsaws or a pig…

Last Friday’s camping experience in Omaha, Nebraska, was one of the most unique I have ever had.  It all started when we realized our camping neighbors had a pit bull that liked to bark…a lot…at everything, followed by the youngsters across the way who liked to thump their pumping bass music so others could share in their experience. 

We had pulled into the site after a long day of travel, and so by the time we got firewood and a fire started, we were cooking our beef in the dark.  As we were sitting down to enjoy our late meal of burgers (grass-fed from Hokybe! Go get some at the market, seriously.  The beef is awesome) with our headlamps on, our meal was soon accompanied by the “bomp bomp bomp” of the booming bass from the campers across the street, followed by the barking pit bull.  OK, so a thumping beat is not exactly what I want to hear in the woods, nor an incessant barking dog, but, we made the best of it and enjoyed our meal, our hearts beating along to the pounding bass and a yelping pup. 

Our meal was also accompanied by screaming children on the playground.  That didn’t bother me too much, as I know playgrounds are built for playing, and I assured Ben that when it got dark, they would all return to their respective camps. 

The night only got better as we prepared for bed.  I should note here that quiet hours are 10pm.  Right around 9:55, as we retired to our sleeping bags, our pit bull neighbors decided to turn on Metallica to share with the rest of us.  I will note here, though, that it was turned off at 10pm along with a small scolding from the husband that “It’s now quiet hours.”  Thank God for people who respect the rules. 

We were almost asleep when we heard what we thought was a pig from the campsite across the street from us.  I didn’t think it was possible, but as I squinted my half-asleep eyes and watched carefully, I finally announced “It’s a pig” and watched the campers play with their squealing animal.  Right around the same time, I heard a rumbling overhead which turned into the loud growling of a 747 flying what felt like right above the trees of the campground.  This happened several times during the night. 

While the pig and planes were rolling, we realized our neighbors two doors down were getting rather intoxicated and that the many many children they brought along didn’t seem to mind playing on the playground in the dark after hours.  Even through all the noise, I was almost able to go to sleep when…

Right at midnight, the loudest music I have ever heard in a campground came on, along with bright lights and dancing as the intoxicated campsite with children decided they needed a midnight rendition of DJ Casper’s “Cha Cha Slide.”  By this point, I was getting a little bit frustrated.  The pig had subsided and our pit bull neighbors and thumping neighbors across the street seem to have calmed for the evening, but this group was ready for an all-night party. 

Which is exactly what they did.  My sleep was broken up into chunks of an hour or so, interrupted by screaming and yelling, lots and lots of “F” bombs, and fist fighting.  Ben woke at 4:30 to conversations threaded with more cussing and threats, and I woke at 5:30am to watch two grown men rolling in the grass 75 feet from our tent, pounding on each other.  More screaming.  More cussing.  In frustration, our pit bull neighbor decided to get out his chainsaw and rev the engine to show his disapproval of the all night brawl. 

I can say this: there was finally peace in the campground when the cops came and left, which was right around the time Ben and I packed up our things to move on. 

I think the worst part about all of this is that if I had been a better car camper, I would have remembered to bring ear plugs, and instead of zombie driving the next day, I would have been well-rested and ready for travel.  Next time I car camp, I will bring a pancake flipper for burgers and ear plugs so I can sleep.  And maybe a chainsaw to scare off my rowdy neighbors.