When Necco, my mom and I were in Southern Utah last week, we were able to stay an extra day with my aunt and uncle in St. George. Now a little background – this is the aunt and uncle that used to take me out on their boat during the summers in Lake Tahoe. My uncle would try his hardest to give me the wildest ride on the tube (or whatever contraption was following the boat) and hopefully throw me off into the clear, deep waters of Tahoe.
So it didn’t surprise me when my aunt offered to take us on a ride on their Rhino through the dessert mountains behind their home in St. George.
We went out on the Rhino right before sunset, so the colors were amazing, but it was particularly difficult to catch many decent shots of the scenery when we were being bounced and bumped in the back seat.
Just seconds after my aunt offered to let me have a turn driving the Rhino (I declined. It had taken me too long to get into the tight back seat and securely harnessed in), my mom, in the front seat, squealed. We all turned to see a rattle snake that we had come close to running over coiled and ready to strike. The rattling noise was more than unnerving, but we were all grateful that we were safely in the Rhino and not out on the road.
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