The best backyard in the world

High Sierras as seen from campsite near Independence, CA

“The battery’s dead,” Andrew told me.

I had just finished dunking my head in the icy stream running through the center of the campsite. I blinked the water drops out of my eyes, readjusting to the hot sun.

“The car battery?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

It figured. We’d kept the car doors open all morning while we were packing and that meant that the little door lights had been on for the whole time. Plus, Andrew had been charging his phone. He also might have had a fan or two running as well. Now his car didn’t have enough energy to spark the ignition.

Fortunately there were other cars and trucks in the lot. It was just a matter of finding someone who would be willing to give us a jump.

I adjusted my sopping hair and tried to adjust myself so it didn’t look so much like I was on drugs. Doubtless, my summer cold made me look far off and lackadaisical — that and the tremendous heat of the day, which sapped away what little energy I had left. To think that only a day earlier we had been trekking across snowfields. The High Sierras rose up behind the campsite, the miles of  snow a contrast to the sweaty heat down below.

Eventually, I got a guy to loan us a battery that he used to jump his car in emergencies. Unfortunately, it had run too low on juice, and was unable to get the Subaru started. The guy called his buddy over to see if he could help us out.

A spindly guy with a gray ponytail and a chest-length beard shuffled over the gravel to us in his flip-flops. It was only about 10 a.m. but he already had a beer koozie in his left hand. He was bent so severely at his back that I worried he would split in two.

He flashed us a broad smile minus a couple of teeth.

Sure, he’d be happy to help.

About a minute later, a beat-to-hell pickup truck rumbled up next to Andrew’s Subaru.

The guy attached the contact points and gave his old engine a quick burst of fuel. It was all we needed to get the car running.

As our benefactor coiled his jumper cables back up, I asked where he was from.

Long Beach, he replied, but for the summer months, this campground was home. He’d loved this place beside the mountains ever since he was young. Now, in his retirement, he could appreciate the scenery as much as he liked. . He’d paid off his expenses (including the camper) and Social Security was there to cover the rest.

He gestured toward the back of the campsite, where the sagebrush climbed into the foothills and gave way to pine forest and the tall peaks.

It was the best backyard in the world, he said, and he didn’t even have to mow it.

We thanked him for the help and told him he should have a great day.

He raised his koozie to us. He wasn’t worried about that, he told us, pointing to his beverage. He had everything he needed.