My ninja suit vs. angry bees in the Valley of Fire

It was the tail end of a 26-day camping trip that took us from Texas, to New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada and Home again. It was at the peak of the 2017 Phoenix heat wave — 117 degrees outside — and we were journeying toward a place known as the Valley of Fire.

I opened the car door at a gas pump 15 miles from camp. The wind blew the door wide open — as if it might rip it from its hinges. I stepped out into what felt like a giant hair dryer. I might have looked like Beaker from the Muppets if not for my shaved head.

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Hug Like It’s Your Last

Most people don’t know this about me, but I’m a hugger. If we become friends, the first couple of times I give a courtesy warning, “I’m a hugger, so are you ok if I hug you?”

I’m not talking about those side hugs, or what in my youth was called a church hug where you just kind of acknowledge, “Yeah, we’re sorta friends.”

I’m talking about those “Hi grandma, I haven’t seen you in 3 years” kind of hugs. I’m talking about those “Hey kid, you did a great job in the spelling bee, even if you didn’t win” kind of hugs. I’m talking about those “You mean something to me” kind of hugs.

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At the fire, we looked up and stared a bear in the eyes.

“Thirteen bears.”

That’s how many the ranger said were frequenting the area where we camped in Glacier National Park.

“Mostly moms with cubs. So far, not aggressive. But, comfortable, which isn’t good.”

Those last words were from the park ranger I affectionately call Janice – because I don’t remember her real name.

So, we did everything by the book. Food stuffs, including our camp stove, went in the bear box. No scraps behind, not even bacon grease or food scraps on the fire. Nobody wants to wake up to a hungry bear tearing a hole in the canvas or you.

Still, the kids wanted to see a bear.

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Playlist: Car Dance-off 1

When people think about camping, they often think about the checklist to get the food, gear and clothing. But, for us, there is always an additional to-do to get to-done. Music selections.

Inevitably, on a 6-hour drive, one of the children will say, “Daddy, can you play some music?” On that front, I never want to disappoint.

One day, I have a goal to mashup all of the car sing-alongs and dance-offs from our years of camping. Until then, use your imagination and jam out to my first Car Dance Off playlist.

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Here is how I unintentionally creeped out a small family.

In 2017, we were north of San Francisco, where we had just seen an old farmhouse that was used in WWII to watch the coast for enemy ships. The gem of history was amazing.

Then, we decided to continue further up to an overlook that supposedly had amazing views of the ocean. So, we meandered up the curved highway.

As we drove, my mind wandered. I felt my leg itch, so I reached down and scratched the scrapes I’d gained so far on the trip. As we neared the area of the overlook, we entered a heavily treed area — normally a source of comfort. But, at the start of the woods, there was a disassembled van. The engine was removed and tilted against the car like a lazy thief decided it was too much work. It had clearly been there for some time. Clearly cleanup crews didn’t often this way come.

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Why is our travel name “MacBeTrippin”?

When I was 17, I got my first job at a movie theater. That job came with an amazing uniform — a fluorescent vinyl hat, apron and bowtie. I won’t ever forget that gig.

Over time, I worked my way up to Assistant Manager Trainee, and ultimately passed the exam to become an Assistant Manager. My boss for a season, Delibra Wesley — a woman with a gentle smile — affectionately called me Mac.

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