We lived in Colorado for years so I've had my little Dodge Stratus up--and down--many a mountain road and didn't think twice when we looked at the map and said "Hey, let's take this road to the other side of the dam and fish the spillway creek for trout." It had been raining the night before so the spillway seemed like a sure deal for fishing.
We packed up our gear and headed down the road, winding our way along the route on the map, we get to the end of the lake, taking a left to traverse the little road to the other side of the dam. As we enter this area, every camper we see appears to be staring at our little red front-wheel drive car. We took note of this and wondered why we warranted such attention. Was my seat belt hanging out the door? Did I leave my thermos on the roof of the car? Hmm.
Just as we enter the woods the sign says it all "WARNING: Four Wheel Drive Vehicles Only" Ahh, that makes sense now. But, we didn't HAVE sense. On we go, in a low-clearance, front-wheel drive sports car.
The road was very muddy the day before but now was baked rock hard by the sun. Grooves and ruts were everywhere. We press on until we get to this huge mound in the road and since all four-wheel drive roads have these mounds, I am not surprised-almost. Leading up to the mound are numerous ruts. Only a few strips of regular ground were available for my tires. The ruts were so deep, I would bottom out if I went down in the deep grooves.
Determined not to be towed out and be on some camper's submission to "America's Funniest Home Videos," I analyze my options. If I keep all four tires on two 4-inch wide strips of non-grooved ground, I should be able to get over the mound. Done. No problem.
Mound two approaches. As if mound one were merely a warm-up, I add a water hazard to the grooves and ruts. I stop and think this one through. I need to go to the left of the water, where there are no puddles covering the grooved vs. non-grooved areas, then keep all four tires on two of the narrow strips available for driving, clip a bush, grab some traction then zip over the mound. Done. Feeling fine. No worries.
Mound three. Stop the car. You've got to be kidding. This one takes five minutes of planning and the best I can come up with is:
1. put the front tires on two narrow strips of non-grooved ground
2. go through the water (hoping I stay on the non-groved strips) on the right side (realizing that if I miss those narrow strips of ground, we bottom out)
3. gun the engine when the front wheels get to the mound so I can drag the back wheels through the muddy strips that keep me from bottoming out (it had rained again, in case I forgot to mention that).
4. as my front wheels go over the top of the mound, slide the back wheels to the left (keep in mind this is a FRONT wheel drive car so I have to whip the front of the car to the right in order to slide the back ones to the left)
5. go down the mound diagonally so I can hit all four tires on the 4-inch wide strips of ground that don't have the deep ruts
6. stay as far right as possible, where I'll clip a tree but the branches are thin so shouldn't scrape the car too badly
It took an additional five minutes for me to check my cell phone signal again, guess which direction to walk to find someone who might have a winch, look at how late in the day it was getting, and try to appear to my son like I knew what I was doing.
Steps 1 through 6 work like clockwork and my son says "You are officially the best driver I know." Oh, yeah. That's what I'm talkin' about--showing your teenage son how it's done.
Mound four.
No tire-swallowing ruts in the ground. Yahoo! No water hazards. Alright! However this one is a bit steeper than the others but after mound three, who cares. I check for rocks and other debris at the top--just a couple 1-inch rocks, no problem for clearance. Up and … grrrrrrindddd … over. That didn't sound good. I must have hit one of the 1-inch rocks at the very top of the mound. I get out to check the oil pan for damage. Something doesn't look right. No, not under the car, but on top of the mound. Curious, I go back to the mound to investigate. That little 1-inch rock I hit left an 8-inch hole in the ground. Not good. Not good. I check under the car, no oil is gushing out so we press on over several more mounds, all without incident.
Finally, we see another vehicle coming from the other direction. I pull half off the road so he can get by and I ask him how much further until we get to the spillway. He looks at my car. Looks at me. Looks at the car. Looks at me. Never once did he laugh, smirk or otherwise show on his face he was thinking "What an idiot!" I firmly believe he thought maybe we were doing a car commercial and had been airlifted into this remote place.
Now that I know it's just a bit further until we get to a real road, I am greatly relieved. It will be dark in an hour or so.
Five minutes later we come to the most beautiful fishing spot you could EVER imagine. Wow! Absolutely crystal clear water where you could see every trout swimming around no matter how deep they were. And this pool was DEEP. We fish. We are in awe and put the past few miles out of our mind. It was worth every stress moment.
The light was fading so it was time to go home. Victory. Almost. I forgot about hitting the oil pan guard and was "reminded" of the event when tremendous noises sounded at every bump in the road. I stop to find the oil pan guard is barely hanging on. That 8-inch rock I dislodged 7 inches out of the ground had won the battle. Oil is dripping but not gushing. We'd better get home quick but I can't drive Interstate speeds with the oil pan guard hitting the pavement.
Pulling off to the side, I put my best MacGyver survival skills to the test and secure the oil pan guard with 25 lb test fishing line I found in the trunk--yes, I actually do fish with 25 lb test line but that's another story. We make it the rest of the way home without incident.
That night, my wife and I watch "Romancing the Stone" and laugh at one of our favorite parts:
- Where is the nearest phone?
- Many miles from here.
- Can we get there in your car?
- Who told you I had a car?
The men in the village.
They told you I had a car? They're such comedians.
They meant my little mule, Pepe.
Not bad for a little mule, eh? (as they zoom off in a big 4 x 4 truck)
From that point on, my little red front-wheel drive sports car's nickname was Pepe. It served us well for years after.
©2009, Kurt Holdorf
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