The Iron Butterfly and I had to camp in a really, really, really "interesting" RV park that was part meth lab, part drifter, part retiree and full/part-time/other residents.
We ran up to the local gas station for a bit and missed all the excitement, but here's how the story unfolded according to our camp neighbor who witnessed the whole thing:
A man, let's call him "Bubba A", was walking along the dirt road in the RV park when another man, "Bubba B", left his camper got in his pickup and peeled out throwing dust and gravel everywhere, then raced through the RV park, narrowly missing Bubba A and showering him with dust.
Bubba A shouted at Bubba B to “slow down” along with a curse word. Bubba B, upon hearing this, spun his truck around and raced back to his trailer, coming back out with a pistol and jumping back into his truck.
Bubba B then raced down to Bubba A's location, only to find Bubba A coming out of his trailer with a baseball bat.
Bubba B jumped from the truck with a cocked pistol to confront Bubba A in the roadway. (Editor's Note: Never bring a bat to a gunfight)
"Bubba C", apparently Bubba A's father, bursts through the door from Bubba A's trailer carrying an AK-47, yelling at Bubba B to “Get the "f*ck outta here! You ain't gonna shoot my son!"
Bubba B backs up, gets in his truck and goes back to his trailer.
Bubba A and Bubba C go back in their trailer.
Normalcy returns to the RV park.
Life just don't get no better than this Jethro!