There is nothing more thought-provoking than driving for hundreds of miles alone on a desert road to reflect about life. While the solitary beauty and grandness of the landscape made me feel grateful for being alive and having the freedom to enjoy the moment, the inner civil war inside my head continues its pursuit of right and wrong. It’s beyond belief how a moment in life can be so beautiful and full of promising future of happiness… then you make that one wrong choice and puff… that opportunity is gone forever. I know… it certainly wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time I’d make choices like that but nonetheless, I felt like such a fool that I could be so careless. As the battle continues on I came upon another small desert town: Oatman. Although the town didn’t seem like much from first impression, I was glad to have the opportunity to take a break from my tumultuous conscience.
When I got out of my car, I almost stepped on to a pile of smelly excrement from the town’s mascot. Many years ago, Oatman was a gold mining town. And after the gold mines were shut down, the burros used during mining were released into the wild. Some of the descendents became tourist attractions. The burros come and go as they please around town, leaving smelly piles everywhere.
My first impression of the town was correct. There wasn’t much to do. After reading the sign about the burros, I took some photos around town. As I started to walk back to my car, this burro for some reason decided to follow me. When I got into the car, he still would not leave me alone. He just stood there looking at me with pleading eyes. I told him to go away… I don’t have any food. There were signs all around town warning people about feeding the burros and yet I saw a woman feeding one of the burros her ice cream. The beast still would not give up and thought perhaps he could convince me by sticking his head into the window. Of course being the photographer, I grabbed the camera and shoot — at the same time trying to stay as far back from the beast as I could when he stuck his head further into the car. At this point I wasn’t sure what to do… other than continue to take pictures and ordering him to go away. Then he looked at me for a moment and backed off.
With a sigh of relief I thought he finally took the hint and decided to leave — instead he proceed to eat my car. Hey! I shouted at him. Don’t eat my car! I wanted to reach out and push him away but… just then a man who has watched my comical interaction with this beast came to my rescue. He shoo the burro away from the car long enough for me to escape…