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Some of the greatest memories I have are the frequent camping trips my Dad took us on when we were children. Whether it was the mountains or the lake we spent several days enjoying each other as a family. Long before the days of iPods and cell phones, all we had was a deck of cards and an AM radio to pass time. Me, my older brother and younger sister would spend hours hiking and looking for animals, while Mom and Dad relaxed to the music of George Jones and Tammy Wynette.

So it only makes sense that I would want to treat my wife and daughter to the same fun that I has as a child. In the summer of 1992 I shared the memories of camping with my wife and our 9-year-old daughter. When I asked them if it sounded fun, I was met with a blank stare and the answer of "No" in stereo. My daughter suggested I take my wife, while she stayed with Nanna and Poppa who were now retired from camping. After much prodding my wife answered yes. But it was one of those yes answers that signaled she was trying to find a quick exit to the conversation.

I ran out and bought a tent, sleeping bags and a few other camping accesories. What I didn't buy I was able to borrow from Mom and Dad. Everything fit neatly into the bed of my truck which I quickly drove home and showed my wife. I reminded her she had agreed to go camping unconditionally. I got her to commit to a camping trip that following weekend.

I had everything ready the morning of July 11th. We headed out for a spot in the Piute mountains a friend had suggested. The drive up there was beautiful and allowed me to reassure my wife we were going to have a wonderful time. The 2 hour trip turned into a 4 hour trip when I realized I had driven too far and needed to double back. I assured my wife I had everything under control. I was actually trying to assure myself everything was under control. Once I found the spot I had driven by 2 hours earlier we began to set up camp.

For those unfamiliar with the Piutes, they sit comfortably near the Garlock fault. Moments after we began setting up a terrible rumbling sound echoed through the mountains while the ground began to shake. As luck would have it an aftershock to the Landers earthquake decided to strike within miles of where we were setting up. We could see rocks rolling off the mountains into the very road we had taken to get to our spot. I had to convince my wife this was all absolutely normal. Earthquakes are a normal part of camping.

While walking back to the truck we could hear a hissing sound from the right side of the truck. At the same time the back corner of the truck seemed to be getting lower and lower. Upon closer inspection we found a large stick protruding from the right rear tire. It was then that I remembered I had no jack to change the tire because I had taken it out earlier in the week and had forgot to put it back. No problem, one of the other friendly campers will help out. At least that is the hope I tried to give my wife. That hope quickly faded away when we realized all the other campers were hastily exiting the area after the earthquake had frightened them.

We had been camping a total of 2 hours when my wife decided we should probably eat something. I quickly set up the stove and described what a perfect meal I could make for us. If I only had propane. I remembered the stove, the pans, the utensils. But somehow the propane slipped my mind. But when you think about it, nothing beats a bologna sandwich in the woods.

Night time settled in the Piutes. My wife had decided TV might turn a bad trip into a better one. She brought a little 12 volt TV that plugged into the cigarette lighter of the truck. There was little or no reception except for FOX, so we watched America's Most Wanted. Mr Walsh decided it was a good idea to do a special on crimes in national parks. Including unsolved murders in the woods. If there was any hope of my wife relaxing on this trip it was gone at this point. Shortly after that story the TV began to fade away as the battery in the truck went dead. Hey we can push start the truck, right? Maybe so if I didn't have a flat tire.

We never used the tent or sleeping bag because we never slept that night. Every noise my wife heard had to be one of the killers at large profiled on America's most wanted. As the sun began to rise we started breaking down camp. When it seemed we were stuck there along came a truck with a man that resembled something off the movie Deliverance. Either he will help us, or simply kill us and put us out of our misery. Fortunately he had a jack to change my tire and jumper cables to start the truck. He started looking a lot more like an angel to me at that point.

We began our journey down the mountain and I decided now was a good time to talk about our next camping trip. I was met with the "death stare". Only guys are familiar with that look. It means change the subject really fast. "How about Disneyland..."