In order to get to the ranch, we have to drive a two and a half mile dirt road that is fairly unmaintained, and that gains 1800 feet in elevation. Needless to say, four wheel drive is the only way to go. And after anything more than a tenth of an inch of precipitation, your only hope is a quad.
When we first moved up, we had neither. While we searched for a used 4WD truck for me, the neighbors were kind enough to loan us a quad. Now, while I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and truly appreciate how much they helped us, when we learned they had nicknamed this fine piece of machinery “Sassy Bitch,” we got an inkling of how she was going to respond to our demands of her.
Sassy had one back tire that was smaller than the others, so she listed to port (left). I learned quickly how to fight to keep her going in a straight line. I also learned how to stop sideways when opening all the gates on the road, as she had no parking brake.
What I couldn’t seem to get the hang of, though, was predicting rain. Rain events are big on the mountain. Everyone has to stage their cars down on the pavement at the bottom of the road and use their quads on the mountain, or risk getting trapped on one side or the other until the road dries out. The trick is to have the right vehicle in the right place at the right time. It is almost a party atmosphere – everyone watches the news, and then there is a mass migration down the mountain. Some of the neighbors use trailers, others shuttle with family members, but everyone has a system.
Except me. I was always a day late and a dollar short. The storms seemed to hit whenever Dave was away at work, so I ended up doing the shuttle alone. Which meant hiking one way or the other quite often as part of the shuttle. The hike is beautiful, and great exercise, but in the mud and rain, or in a time crunch for work, it lost its charm quickly. And there always seemed to be a propane tank or a basket of laundry at the wrong end of the road because I had planned poorly.
When I did actually stage everything correctly, the commute was still a big adventure because Sassy was not a four-wheel drive quad. Her two mismatched back tires slipped and slid all over the slick clay soil, throwing mud in every direction as she went. (But mostly on me, or the clean clothes.)
The first big rainstorm hit one morning during “rush hour,” when I had no choice but to slide down the mountain to be on time for work. I was only cruising at about five miles per hour, so the first time I hit the brakes for a steep section, Sassy’s slide was in super slow motion – BONK! – into the bank. The second time, I tried to move to the right so a neighbor could pass me, and – BONK! – into the bank again.
By the time I got towards the bottom, the rain had been falling for quite a while. So when I hit the final steep section, Sassy went into a power slide of her own free will and spun a full 180 degrees before – WHOOPS! – no bank, just off the road completely and into a ditch. Strike three! I’m out! I left her where she lay and hiked the rest of the way.
The next storm caught me by complete surprise. I woke up at about 4am to rain thundering on the roof. What do I do? Do I make a run for it and sit in a coffee shop until it’s time for work? Do I call in sick? It’s hard to make decisions that early in the morning.
Because I had just gotten my truck and didn’t trust my 4WD skills yet, I opted to hold off and see how the morning progressed. I ended up finding a co-worker willing to pick me up at the bottom of the mountain, and slogged my way down on foot.
As I did, I was gratified to pass a neighbor’s car abandoned just past our gate. It was clear from the skid marks that they had tried the 4am gamble and lost. Then I passed another. And another. It was almost eerie, but I did feel vindicated. I’m not a complete idiot; even the veterans got caught offguard on this one.
That feeling disappeared quickly. When I came home, it was dusk, and Sassy had been at the bottom of the road for a few days. When she sits alone for more than a couple days, she deflates a front tire and refuses to start. I tried and tried, to no avail.
I thought to jump start her like I’d seen Dave do several times before, but she sat on just enough of an incline that I couldn’t push her on to the main road to give it a go. I pushed and dragged until I felt my back getting ready to go on strike again, and finally admitted defeat. It was now after dark, and there was no way I was going to risk becoming a mountain lion’s main dinner course, so I called a neighbor for help.
Her quad was back down the main road at another neighbor’s house. So I hiked down to pick it up. By the time I got there, he had it ready to go, and after a quick lesson on how to shift it, I was on my way.
It was a dream! 4WD, no slip-sliding, no mud clumps pelting me, no constant steering to the right, and I could even park when opening gates. Who knew?!
Riiight…
No comments:
Post a Comment