Rambo Ralph

When I first moved to Arizona when I was 14, I wasn’t sure how things were going to be. I was moving in with my Mom, sis and brother, but also a Step dad who I did not know that well. I remember only meeting him a few times prior to them getting married and moving out of state. I had only had time with them twice in the prior year. It was like getting to know a family all over again.

My step dad was a different type of person. To put it lightly, he was big about sports. Football, baseball, wrestling, whatever – he wanted you to play. Me, I was a chubby 9th grader who was more interested in playing tuba in the band than anything else. If you read here a bit, you’ll see a previous story about trying out for the freshman football team.

To get a bit more to the story, spring came along, as does baseball fever. I was not trying out for the school team, and so the step dad talked me into playing Little League. I was at the final age limit, so I said ok. An older guy named Chuck coached our team, and he had been doing this for years. He was cool, he knew what he was talking about and practices were always fun.

At the end of the season, I had made acquaintances with a couple of the guys that went to the same school as I, and some younger guys in Jr. High, we all had thought that would be the end of it. About two months later, just after Memorial Day, Chuck calls each of us at home and invites us out for a team camp out up north. I couldn’t believe it when my parents said yes, but I was excited about going!

The weekend came and all of us loaded up for the trip to Mayer. Chuck knew a place off the main road, back near some of the old mineshafts in the mountains. We set up camp just off a small stream, then he took us over to a mine that he had explored before and showed us around. We played hide and seek in there for hours that day. By nightfall we were ready to eat some grub.

After a good meal of hot dogs, hamburgers and smokes, us boys decided it was time for some more fun. A game called “War” was suggested that I had never heard of. Basically it is similar to hide and seek, but when found you are considered shot dead and have to return to base (campfire). Now the team in hiding can also “shoot” the enemy by tagging them without being seen first. In the dark, it makes it all possible, and a lot of fun.

My team was designated hiders first, and we were given 15 to go to ground. I sort of followed one of the other guys, as I had no clue as to what we were doing. We had probably about 8 per team. Once the hunt had began, I saw how things were about getting “shot” and doing the “shooting”. My team was done in about 15 minutes, and we switched roles. When we began our hunt, it didn’t seem to take long as most the other team was hiding near each other. Again we switched sides.

I took off right away to about 20 yards outside the firelight and swung clear back around the camp to the water’s edge. The water edge dropped about three feet from the edge, which was lined with old stones. I lay down against the rocks, holding myself out of the water. Soon I heard the hunters coming my way, and I let myself slide into the water, submerged in 2 feet of running water except for my head, and watched them cross the stream and head back to camp.

I slowly got up and headed back the way they had came, intending on a new hiding place, when I came running across one of the other team. “You’re dead” I hissed and tapped his shoulder. I must have scared him good because he jumped damn near out of his shoes. I waited as he headed to the camp and then I crawled under the bushes. Stupid me I never thought about scorpions, spiders or snakes this whole time, but I belly crawled over a ten minute period about 20 yards, and was 15 feet from the clearing where our camp was. I could see and hear everything that was going on. The guy I had “shot” was telling how I came up behind him and tapped him. “Ralph was soaking wet, and had old leaves sticking to his clothes. I thought it was a ghost at first!”

Chuck had laughed and said, “Ol Rambo Ralph got ya!! This is the first year I seen anyone get shot by the hiding team. This ought to be interesting!” The hunters went back out with intent. I spotted 6 of my guys down – that left me and one other hiding.

I backslid out of that spot until I could stand up inside the bush. Here came another one that I reached out and tapped, whispering “You’re dead.” As soon as he was more than 10 feet I would run off a different direction and repeat the same tactic. Slide under some bush for 15 feet or so, come up standing inside it and tap the next poor soul. Soon I knew it was down to me against 2 others. I would make some noise and sprint over about 5 yards, trying to draw them apart but they wouldn’t do it. I was getting desperate.

I was sitting there trying to figure out what to try next when a steer comes moseying my way. At first I was a bit confused, but I remembered Chuck saying earlier, the range farmers here let the cattle roam all over this area. I thought of the best thing I could, seeing how I was from Indiana and all. I ran up and leaped across its back, held on and slapped its butt. That steer went ‘Moooing” and running right towards my attackers.

I slid off about 10 feet from them and jogged behind the cow. As the cow reached them they shouted, and turned to run from the cow. I reached out and tapped both at the same time. “I win!” I yelled. I jogged back to the camp to tell everyone and earned a new nickname that year – Rambo Ralph.

My First Mexico Trip

I remember about 10 years ago, or so, I took my first trip out of the good ol’ USA down to our southern neighbors in Mexico. To be a bit more exact, it was down to Rocky Point, also known as Puerto Penasco.

At that time, I was working for a Mom & Pop shop of CarQuest, as was my brother, Stuman. Out of the twelve or so employees, about six of us guys had decided to get out of town and do something one weekend. One of the guys had an aunt that had a timeshare condo there, and it was her weekend, but she was going somewhere else, and gave him permission to use it. Can’t beat it! Six guys, in Rocky Point, with alcohol and who knows what can happen!

Friday morning we finalized plans. My brother, his friend Eric, and I would get the alcohol for all of us, and the other guys would get the food for the weekend. Part of us had to work Saturday, so we agreed to meet there Saturday evening. I don’t remember the unit number, but they gave me directions how to get there, and we proceeded to go shopping. Four cases of beer (24 packs – was before 30’s were available), large bottle of Jagermeister, Capt Morgan's and Black Velvet – yeah, that should be enough for us. I threw in a package of hot dogs, just because I might want something to munch on during the trip.

Saturday the three of us loaded up my 1985 Toyota Camry with the alcohol and headed south. I think we all had a good buzz on beer by the time we reached Why, AZ, and I know I was buzzing well when we hit the border. One case of beer gone by that point. Another hour found us in Rocky Point, downtown. I had no idea where the turn was I was supposed to take. We drove on looking for it before realizing we had driven all the way through town. I turned it around, and headed back. We stopped at some mercantile store so I could try to get my bearings. First time there, them streets get confusing. Of course, being as drunk as I was wasn’t helping.

Finally back north of town I recognize my turn. It was described as “an old ice factory that still has an ice sign on the wall”. Well, old was right – broken down walls, no roof, windows or doors. The ‘ICE” sign was on the ground, but still sort of leaning against the front of the building. So we turned down this dirt road, going about 10 miles an hour due to the washboard. It seemed like forever before we saw anything besides a dirt berm. It was a turn off for Sandy Beach Campground. Yep, one of road details, so we kept moving along.

The road finally ended up in a “community” of buildings. I use the word community loosely. These buildings were built all over, different floor levels, colors, and designs. There was no numbering system to them. We drove around for an hour, up every dirt way we could find before we found the right unit.

By now it is dusk. I pull it on up behind a truck that has got some people lounging against it. I nod and say “Hi. We’re here for this unit. Have you by chance seen the other party we are supposed to meet here?”

“What you mean you got that unit. That is our unit this weekend.”

I glanced at Stuman. He looked at Eric. We all looked back at the guy. “Well, sir, our friend (name here) said his aunt (her name here) said she had the unit this weekend and we were to meet them here.”

“Oh yeah. Okay, I know her. But she doesn’t have it until next weekend.”

I am at a loss as to what to do. I didn’t recall seeing any hotels when we drove through town – not that we had money for one anyways. I was getting pretty tired, since we had been drinking the past several hours of drive time heading down here. “Sir, would it be okay if we sat here for an hour or so to see if our friends show up? And if by chance they don’t, we’ll head on out.”

He nodded his head that that was fine. So we sat in the car off to the side, drinking beers killing time. After an hour and a half, I decided our ‘buddies’ (fast becoming enemies) weren’t going to make it and we needed to make other plans. None of us had a cell phone, besides there would not have been service where we were anyways. We headed back out the washboard road we traveled in on.

Once again we started to pass The Sandy Beach campground when I halted. Only $3 a night per carload. Might as well and sleep in the car. So we pulled in and drove until I couldn’t see anything in front of the headlights. I broke out the package of hot dogs, but we couldn’t find anything in the car able to start a fire with, so ate them cold. Then proceeded to drink hard alcohol until we passed out.

‘Bout quarter to six in the morning I woke up. Stu and Eric were still passed out. I got up to find somewhere to pee, but nothing was close, so I went behind the car. Grabbed a beer from the back seat and walked to the front of the car. I stood there looking in drunken amazement. The front tires were about 3 feet from a rocky cliff that dropped about 20 feet to the water. No wonder I couldn’t see anything in front of the headlights when we parked. I woke the boys up as a vendor was walking our way down the beach. Luckily he had some breakfast food, which we dumped a portion of our measly funds for.

After eating we wound our way down to the water and horsed around a bit. By 10 I was pretty tired and drunk all over again so went and laid on the sleeping bag by the car. I got a couple hours sleep before I decided it was time to head home. We loaded up, minus all the hard booze. I think we had about 8 beers left when we left the campground. Trip to the border was uneventful – nothing to claim coming back in. We stopped in Gila Bend where I spent the last $4 I had on 3 cheeseburgers for us to eat. Rest of the trip was made in tired silence.

Come Monday, I was ready to exchange words with them boys that were supposed to meet us. Turned out, the aunt told the nephew when he went to pick up the keys that she didn’t have it until the following week. So since there wasn’t any way to contact us, they just let us go. So we played it off like it was a good time. So much for a first experience.