Growing up, I did none of those things. My parents were not outdoorsy. In my youth I never went camping, hiking, hunting, fishing, or any other sort of outdoor activity, and that was just fine by me. Outside is a messy place, full of things that can make you sore, uncomfortable, or late for supper. I used to spend every available hour of my time in a dark room, glued to a TV or computer screen. I was extremely pale, and spent so little time in the sun, my friends used to call me 'the vampire'.
I still use this line when I'm feeling particularly lazy.
Since meeting my wife, the ever lovely Princess Consuela Bananahammock, (as always, names have been changed to protect those who claim to be innocent) I have gradually gotten over my phobia of all things out doors. I camp, I hike, I float the rivers, and I ride the trails on my four-wheeler.
It is that last one that I am writing about today, because yesterday I went riding in the mountains, and things... didn't go well. Have you ever been in a situation where something happens and your brain switches from 'What will I do when I get home?' to 'How am I going to make it home?'
Maybe you were at the airport and realized you left your wallet in the taxi. Maybe you broke down on a rural backroad with no traffic. I have had that internal dialogue several times in my life, and it's never a fun scenario.
This was my first time out this year. The quad had been sitting in my garage all winter without being used. So, of course the first thing I had to do in preparation for the ride was to pull the four-wheeler out and jump the battery. (BTW, the battery on this thing is in the stupidest possible spot. Tremendous pain in the ass to get to.) It started right up, I drove around for maybe 30 minutes to make sure it was good and charged, then I loaded it up on the truck and headed to the mountain.
Delmoe Lake, just outside of Butte, where I went riding.
As a point of safety, I want to point out that you should never, ever ride alone. I met my friend, Duke Amazeballs for the ride. Things went great for the first three or so hours. We got a good 17 miles from the trucks before we encountered anything remotely treacherous on our ride. 17 miles up trails so narrow that it is only possible to ride single file. Then suddenly, for no reason either of us could discover, my engine dies. Dead battery.
A lifetime of owning piece-of-shit vehicles, and a wife that loves to leave the lights on has given me the habit of always carrying jumper-cables with me. We were able to jump my quad using his, but as I said, my battery is in a god awful location, underneath the vehicle, and to access his battery, he had to take apart several components. All after maneuvering two ATVs side by side on a trail only wide enough for one.
After the jump, we were all too eager to get back to the trucks. But perhaps maybe half a mile later, same problem. Dead battery. Dead four-wheeler. Right about then was when my brain did the switch. How could I possibly get this 800 pound vehicle back to the truck? Duke Amazeballs saved the day, that's how.
Luckily, my ATV has a winch package on it. Of course, the winch runs OFF THE BATTERY! So we had to jump the ATV again, just so we could let the winch out. As it turns out, my winch has a length of eight feet. Duke towed me through seventeen miles of uneven, rocky terrain on an eight-foot tether. It was rough, and at times terrifying. Every pebble, every stick he hit got shot right into me.
But I made it back. I am writing this from the comfort of my computer, inside my well-lit, temperature controlled home. I think I'll stay put for a while.
