It was humidly hot the next evening when I again cornered the best seat. Raymond, our guide and driver, seemed a bit rough around the edges. He was as well-informed as all the other South African National Park guides I&rsquod met, but his delivery was a bit mechanical, as if he had mugged up all the facts. Press a button and info came rattling out &ldquoThe female elephant is the matriarch of the group while young males form bachelor parties...&rdquo or &ldquoThe male white rhinoceros can weigh up to three tons while the white rhino eats only grass, the black rhino eats grass and leaves...&rdquo (perhaps it&rsquos the other way around, I&rsquove forgotten). But maybe Raymond wasn&rsquot as relaxed as the rest because we had an irritating American in our group, a large pink man who loudly announced that he had already seen four of the Big Five since morning, including a pride of 20 lions on the Skukuza road (I squirmed with envy). He now needed a rhino to round off his tally. &ldquoShow us a rhino,&rdquo he urged. &ldquoI can&rsquot promise to show anything,&rdquo said Raymond, &ldquowe will see what we will see.&rdquo &ldquoPositive thinking,&rdquo boomed the American, &ldquoYou must have good attitude&rdquo If I had been Raymond, I would have done my best to make sure we didn&rsquot get anywhere near a rhino. But as it turned out, the bloody man&rsquos luck was good. Within 15 minutes, we saw a white rhino hulking close to the road. The American was loud in his triumph but luckily for us, with the Big Five knocked off his list, he lost interest, sat back and shut up for the rest of the drive.