We pushed into the gorge campsite at a crawl, albeit a very loud crawl, as the engine of our borrowed behemoth rumbled some declaration of its might. People stared. Our means of transport, as it happened, was a Ford F-350 power-stroke something or other -- basically, a well endowed diesel-guzzling grizzly bear of a truck. Additionally, there was the matter of the license plate frame. A shining expression of patriotism, the frame was one part bald eagle, two parts American flag and a whole lot of, "THESE COLORS DON'T RUN."
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