Every town has a legend. Some have haunted bridges. Others have mysterious lights in the woods. Bend, naturally, has a rock in a parking lot that eats cars for sport.
Locals call him B.O.B.
Short for Big Obvious Boulder (and yes, the irony is part of the experience).
B.O.B. is not large by geological standards. He does not loom. He does not roar. He simply exists, quietly, patiently, at tire height, waiting for his next offering: a Subaru with low clearance, a rental SUV driven by confidence, a sedan whose owner swore they “had plenty of room”, and sometimes even an innocuous box truck, just attempting to make deliveries.
B.O.B. lives in a parking lot in downtown Bend, just casually existing where drivers absolutely do not expect him to be. Locals know the spot immediately, but newcomers usually discover it the hard way: by climbing it with their undercarriage.
To keep things (and bumpers) safe, most Bendites will tell you:
- It’s not on a road, it’s in a parking lot
- It’s not marked, because that would ruin the lesson
- And if you’re looking for it, you’re already too late
There’s a reason the Facebook group exists: B.O.B. prefers anonymity and surprise. Think of him less as a landmark and more as an experience.
A Rock With a Body Count (Of Tires)
Over the years, B.O.B. has:
- Destroyed countless tires
- High-centered unsuspecting vehicles
- Left drivers stranded, staring at their life choices
- Generated an entire Facebook page documenting his victories
This is not an exaggeration. There are receipts. Photos. Comment threads full of “HOW DID YOU NOT SEE IT?” and “I got Bob’d last night 😔.”
Some victims try to defend themselves.
“It was dark.”
“The sun was in my eyes.”
“I thought it was a shadow.”
B.O.B. does not accept excuses. B.O.B. accepts sacrifices.
The Most Patient Predator in Central Oregon
Unlike deer, B.O.B. does not dart into traffic.
Unlike roundabouts, he does not confuse visitors.
Unlike icy roads, he gives no warning.
He simply waits.
And that’s what makes him so powerful.
You can drive past B.O.B. every day for years with no issue. Then one afternoon, you’re distracted by a podcast, a coffee, or the audacity of believing you are better than the dozens who came before you, and suddenly you’re parked on top of a rock, Googling “tow truck Bend Oregon” while strangers take photos for the group page.
Bend’s Most Reliable Tourist Attraction
Somewhere between craft breweries and outdoor recreation, B.O.B. has become part of Bend’s unofficial identity.
Visitors hike Pilot Butte.
They float the Deschutes.
They eat tacos.
And if they’re lucky, they meet B.O.B.
Local wisdom suggests:
- If a parking lot looks harmless, it isn’t
- If you think, “I can clear that,” you cannot
- If you laugh at B.O.B. photos online, your time is coming
Immovable. Unbothered. Uninsured.
The most impressive thing about B.O.B. isn’t his kill count: it’s his refusal to change.
Paint him? No.
Fence him? Absolutely not.
Move him? That would defeat the purpose.
B.O.B. remains exactly where he’s always been, a reminder that in Bend, nature doesn’t just surround you. It waits for you to park.
So the next time you’re pulling into a lot and feel a strange sense of confidence, remember the legend. Remember the rock. And remember:
B.O.B. has been here longer than your car.
And he will be here long after it’s gone.
