Many years ago, when we were young , we decided to take the week off and camp in Canyon Lake near San Antonio. Tuesday and Wednesday we were alone, except for Duane, a young guy who liked travelling and had been as far as Beaumont, TX...

Thursday night there were 4-5 tents around, with plenty of space between each other. Two in the morning, a truck with a shell arrives with (outside) speakers blaring, a sporty (read non-existent) muffler and proceeds to park right opposite to us. Not just park, but going back and forth until the truck was parked just so... Then he turned off the lights (roll bar lights, fog lights, regular lights) and the speakers, so we thought well the worst is over, we will get some sleep!

Wrong!...

Strapped behind the shell (!) was a Harley. At three in the morning, he decided to go to the bathrooms, riding the Harley of course... and returning on the Harley, naturally.

And then his dog starts barking at the dog two tents over...

His old lady goes:

"Honey, the neighbor's dawg is barkin' at our dawg"

"If the neighbor doesn't hush his dawg, pretty soon he's not gonna have a dawg"

Neighbor moved out first thing in the morning, while the gentleman was asleep...

Good Friday now and the campground is getting full. A bunch of college kids (maybe high school? not sure) camp nearby and start drinking. An hour later they started pruning a tree by the shoreline using a AK47...

An hour and five minutes we were on our way back to Houston...