In 2019, I went on a road trip with my friend through California and Nevada on a budget tighter than the back of a Kardashian’s spandex.
We were roughing it out because we couldn’t afford to stay in hotels or motels. Instead, we used Freecamping.net, which showed free campgrounds catering to low-life degenerates such as ourselves.
The problem was that these campsites were usually way out in the sticks and far away from civilization.

On one of these days, we had to endure a long drive, and our patience for one another was wearing thin. It was getting dark, and even if we could afford it, there was no town in sight. After getting lost for a while, at dusk, we found the site.
The entry from the main road was somewhat hidden around a bend, but we had found it. It was completely vacant, and there was no person or car in sight. It was not a bad spot with plenty of trees and a little ravine... not bad…. just…isolated.
Making a fire was not permitted due to the risk of forest fires, but we decided to do so anyway. We ignored the fact that we could accidentally start a forest fire—something California is renowned for. Our biggest concern was getting spotted and fined. It would’ve wiped out the budget completely.

That’s why we set up shop, way at the back of the vacant camp terrain. We strategically parked the car in such a manner as to obstruct and hide the fire from the quiet main road about two hundred yards away.
After collecting wood, starting the fire, and setting the tent up, we finally settled down for a beer and some easy-listening music. We were both ignorant city folk (and not from the USA) and had no idea what wildlife we could encounter.
I mean, this was in the middle of nowhere! Anything could be lurking behind the dark shrubs and trunks. Bears, wolves, raccoons, or a goddamn Sasquatch.

I kept swiveling my head to look out for these beasts while we were waiting for the fire to settle to coals. But then, my heart froze.
Someone was walking behind our car with a flashlight!
In an instant, I realized how screwed we were. I immediately assumed that a warden spotted our fire and was coming to rain on our parade and give us a fine for making a fire—if he didn’t arrest us, of course.
A massive fine. A huge fine in USD. A fine so big that we would end up doing unscrupulous acts behind dumpsters for the next couple of weeks to pay it off before being able to leave the country.
I quickly shook that thought out of my head and jerked myself around to warn my friend, who was busy poking the fire.
"Dude! We’re fucked! There’s someone with a flashlight heading our way," I whispered anxiously.
“Where?”
I turned and pointed to the car. "He’s behind the fucking car!" When I turned back around, the light was gone. There was nobody there.
From the expression on my face, my buddy realized I wasn't joking. We were both petrified now. If that was a warden, why the hell would he turn off his light and hide behind our car?
We were alone in the middle of nowhere without a cellphone signal, and now we had someone hiding behind our car.
Panic took control for a few seconds. We had no idea what to do next. We switched on our headlamps and aimed them at the car, but there was no sign of movement.
"Who’s there? We are armed and will shoot if you don't come the fuck out now," I shouted in the worst possible American accent ever.
My ignorant reasoning behind using the heavy American accent was that ALL Americans have guns, so if this guy heard we were ‘Murican,’ he might think twice before messing with us.
My pathetic threat rendered no results.
We didn't detect any movement.
We mustered up the courage to investigate the back of our car. It was completely dark, the small fire casting dancing shadows against the pitch-black backdrop of the forest, eerily accompanied by the faint rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
There was nobody behind the car.
We continued our investigation by carefully tip-toeing around our campsite, scanning the trees and shrubs with our headlights.
“Do you remember that ruin we saw on our way in?” my friend asked.
“Yes?”
“Maybe there’s someone living there.”
Goosebumps crawled over my back and neck. There was no way I was going to show him how shit-scared I was, and I agreed that we should investigate.
Close to the main road was a small decrepit building. Upon entering the park, we assumed that it was a bathroom. We never explored the bathroom because we would do our business in the forest as we’d done so many times before in those wild camp spots.
We made our way to the entrance with extra caution, scanning our lights all around us we went. By that time, every shadow seemed suspicious, and we couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of someone watching us.
On our approach to the ruin close next to the entrance, we noticed the door was broken and stood slightly ajar. There wasn't a car parked close by, as far as we could see. We also couldn’t hear any cars in the distance.
It took everything inside me to convince myself to open the door to see who or what was behind the door. Inside, we panned our flashlights to the corners first. There was nobody inside the abandoned bathroom.
I don’t know what we were expecting, but we didn’t expect that, given its location, it would seem that it was recently occupied. We saw some old raggy clothes scattered on the floor, newspaper pages scattered around, an old broken plastic chair, and empty food packaging.
This was when Hollywood screwed us over. Years of mindless unrealistic bullshit from the silver screen had now conjured itself into rational possible scenarios.
Maybe we stumbled onto a fugitive’s hideout?
Perhaps a deranged homeless person who would kill for food?
Maybe this is a serial killer’s hideout?
Or perhaps it’s the den of a demented hillbilly that uses this territory for human hunting?
We were freaking out. We went back to the safety and light of the fire and sat back-to-back so that we could have a 360-degree view of our surroundings while preparing our food. Every now and then, when the wind rustled the leaves or scurried through the underbrush, we would shit ourselves and shine our lights in the direction of the sound.
We were enveloped in fear.
Why did we not just get into the car and leave, you ask? Well, we were four beers in during the first sitting, and risking an arrest and an unaffordable fine for DUI was not in the budget.
Dinner wasn’t an enjoyable experience, to say the least. We were like chameleons eating insects in a bird aviary—eyes rolling in every direction, searching for the impending doom that could swoop down from any direction.
After dinner, we talked about taking turns sleeping when, suddenly, we saw the light again. It was heading in our direction through the forest. It seemed as though the guy was running towards us while carrying a flashlight in one hand.
We froze as time stood still, and then.... the light disappeared behind our car again.
This was the moment rational thinking kicked in. It was highly unlike that a psycho-hillbilly-serial killer would make the exact same trajectory and disappear in the same spot again.
Upon further investigation, we realized how incredibly stupid we were.
The light was from a car on the road passing around the bend on the main road. Coincidently, our car was obstructing the view and the trees behind it. The flashing light (which we presumed was the up-and-down movement of the flashlight in the running man’s hand ) was caused by the trunks blocking the light as the car sped past on the main road outside the camp. The lights would then disappear as the car entered the bend. With our music in the background, the crackling fire, rustling leaves from the wind, and distance from the road, we could not hear the engine.
It’s funny. We used to joke about how stupid deer are for freezing up in a car's headlights. Not anymore!
Fuck*** idiots...

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