Breach of the breachway

Charlestown Breachway. Oil on stretched canvas, 11x14
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After spending some time in and around Westerly with my stepdaughter, her significant other and my youngest grandson, I headed to Charlestown Beach to paint. Saturday, the forecasters said, would be the last snowless day for a while.

It would not be the last windless day. I pulled into the Charlestown Breachway parking lot, on the DEM side, and set up my easel. I hung my heavy painting bag from my easel as ballast, left my paper palette in the trunk of the Miata and reminded myself that spring is only a spell away.

As I painted, I heard a truck revving. I turned to see some moron in a Silverado doing donuts in the parking lot, kicking up sand and rocks, spewing noise and fumes and generally just acting like the whole place belonged to him and he intended to wreck it.

I turned and gave him a series of dirty looks, but he kept doing it. Again and again, he'd rev the engine and gun the accelerator and spin the truck around.

So I called the cops. By the time they arrived, the idiot in the truck had parked on the town side of the lot, facing the dunes, and had gone onto the beach. I motioned the cop over and pointed out the stooge's truck. The cop pulled up, looked inside and then positioned his own car directly behind the truck so the guy couldn't get out.

By now, I was frozen to the bone and the wind was even stronger and colder. My painting was finished enough that I could bring it home and put the final touches on it here. Also, I wanted to get the heck out of there before that jerk in the truck decided to punch me.

I packed up and pulled out of the lot just as the DEM police were pulling in, lights and sirens going. Yeah!

It was a good day, in my book. I am all for letting people be people, and for the most part, if they want to break the law, that's their business as long as it doesn't involve me or anyone I love. But I draw the line at dolts destroying protected land that we all are invited to share.

Thanks for reading!