Cap'n Kev and I once set off, with the dog, on a camping trip. After a few hours on the road, we stopped for coffee at a roadside cafe. We sat outside, and I tied the dog to our table.
We were enjoying a quiet coffee when a truck pulled up beside us. The driver jumped out, and left the motor running while he went shopping. Enveloped in exhaust, I simply whinged, but to his credit Kev climbed into the cab and switched off the engine.
When the guy eventually returned, he was furious - it was a hot day and he had wanted the aircon to keep the cab nice and cool. Bravely, Kev gave the guy a lecture on air pollution laws.
When the argument was over and I was congratulating Kev, a local guy sitting at the next table came over. I thought he was going to say "good on yer". But he said something like "you should look at yourselves before you start accusing other people - that dog shouldn't be anywhere near a cafe, you're breaking the public health laws."
We drove on, but by this time it was starting to feel a bit like Deliverance.
Hours later we went off-road, and reached the secluded spot that only Kev knew about. We pitched our tents. As it was getting dark, we noticed we were right next to a track used by local hooligans and shooters. One pickup truck after another roared past us, rednecks in baseball caps hanging out the windows and off the back. Through their eyes, we looked like city mugs, or gays.
I knew what would happen next. I have seen the movies. I vetoed the camp site and we packed up again. I think Kev would have stayed on, but there's no way I would have slept after that. On the drive home, I turned to Kev and quoted George Costanza - we must never talk about this again. And we never did.