DESERT RATTLER: A plan that could not fail, but maybe did
By Ken Layne
Before starting the war, you need to sell it with propaganda. Various dull horrors threaten my splendid isolation out here in the Mojave, but only one was deemed (by me) obnoxious enough to demand immediate action.
The dirt bikers had to go.
Maybe the housing collapse could take them with it, down into the poison bowels of America’s recent history, all bad finances and dumb recreation. And the real-estate agents and upside-down mortgage slaves needed all the help they could get out here, with banks dumping foreclosures on an already decimated market.
I put together the most innocuous op-ed submission I could manage, a bland rallying call for distressed homeowners and broken Realtors. Sent it right off to the local daily’s opinion editor, who apparently did nothing more with his position than run week-old George Will columns and some bizarre cartoon about a communist-hating duck.
How to Keep OHV Fanatics
out of Foreclosed Homes
By Ken Layne
The foreclosure nightmare keeps getting worse, and not just for the people losing their houses. Too many desert families are waking to find their neighbors packed up a U-Haul in the night and vanished, too often leaving behind a wrecked house and even abandoned pets.
It’s no great shock that these people who were so reckless with their finances also tend to be the people so reckless with our desert: the slobs who tear up everything with their off-road motorcycles, dune buggies, OHVs, ATVs, and every other buzzing smoke-belching idiot machine manufactured for the sole purpose of being a public nuisance.
The vacant houses with the “Bank Owned” signs almost always feature some horrific sheet metal barn for the “toys,” while the lot is completely destroyed by the imbeciles who rode in circles around their former house, creating a constant buzzing dust storm for the neighbors.
Without fail, the real estate hustlers advertise these distressed properties with invitations for more motorized morons to have a go, until they too fall into foreclosure. The all-caps exhortation “BRING YOUR TOYS” is like clod-rock music to the slobs with their trailers full of gas-wasting recreational bulldozers. “Ride from your house straight to the desert,” the classifieds and For Sale fliers promise.
That needs to end, now.
OHV abuse is regulated by county, state and federal law. It is illegal to operate off-road machines on highways, roads, and especially residential streets. It is illegal to ride OHVs on private property unless you have written permission from the owner, and even then it’s illegal to ride in large groups without a county permit. It is illegal to ride OHVs on a wide variety of public lands, and off-road activity is regulated on all state and federal land.
Beyond that, stable families in our desert don’t want another houseload of mechanized boozers riding around in circles and wrecking the equestrian trails in neighborhoods meant for people and horses.
There are two easy ways to help prevent a bunch of rude parolees from moving to your neighborhood and destroying your peace, quiet, and property values:
First, call the real estate agents selling the vacant houses around you and demand they responsibly advertise the property – that means no “BRING YOUR TOYS” or any other attempts to attract the OHV crowd. A Realtor would never advertise a house as a “great place to run a meth lab” and they likewise shouldn’t advertise a property’s potential for other illegal activities and boorish behavior.
Second, when you see people looking at a neighboring foreclosure, go introduce yourself and make it clear that OHVs won’t be tolerated in your community. You can say this in a friendly way, such as, “We’re really looking forward to a nice family moving in. The last people were OHV idiots and we drove them away pretty quickly and now they’re in jail again, the end.”
Proud of my first attempt at Community Journalism, I awaited the friendly note from the editor. Nothing. I sent it again, with a cheery reminder, which was also ignored. There’s a little country weekly a few miles down the road, so I gave that a try. The owner-editor never acknowledged the thing, either.
But high school’s back in session and the desert is silent again and the dirtbags are back in wood shop, at least for another few months before they finally give up and graduate to Jiffy Lube or some white-power gang hanging out in the parking lot by the Stater Bros. supermarket.
Published: 09/10/2008
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Ken,
You really should get out more often. These people you speak so badly about, are much better off financially, than you seem to think. They are a very good bunch of people and considering your inane opinions as valid would make anybody wonder about your sanity. After reading your piece of crap dated 9/10/2008, I can understand why no REPUTABLE Journalist or Newspaper would publish your ridiculous letter. Go away and live somewhere else if you don't like what you see. Maybe you would do well living in beautiful Baker, CA.