The Lost Prince of Death Valley
It happened in Death Valley, although I can’t confirm the contents of this story to be entirely true. Time has a sneaky way of covering up details with a filmy layer of haze. Over the years, my gaps in memory become all too susceptible to excesses of an overactive imagination. As a result, history becomes not so much about a record of actual circumstance; but rather a daisy-chain of fractured fairy tales linked together with real-life events. In any case, I will tell things the way in which I remember them. The reader can make any necessary distinctions separating facts from fiction.
Death Valley, Nevada (Photo courtesy of wiseGEEK)
It was the late summer of 1984, we had entered just Death Valley and we were two hours into our drive outside of Vegas. I was just eleven years old then. Christian was twelve; Shannah was nine; and Aaron was at the tender but mischievous age of six. We had spent the entire summer with our dad in Anaheim, California and we were heading back to Iowa in one of those Malibu Classic wood-paneled station wagons. (more…)
Posted in North America, Tall Tales and Big Fish Stories and tagged death valley, Nevada by Big John with 12 comments.