I bought a 4 wheeler last year and had not used it once;so rather than watch it die from neglect, I chose to sell it at quite a loss as I originally over paid.
So today I got to go jeep Rubicon 4 wheeling up and over the sand dunes near by. When I was asked to join I assumed this guy had done this before. But nope. His first time as well. We bounded, bumped and shredded our way up and over sandy mounds until we roll to the top of a dune with a cliff of sand on the other side. Often times difficult to keep from rolling ass over head, or sliding into what was referred to later as a witches well or something that was more of gigantic antlions nest that seemed to have vortex pulling us to the bottom, as we make our way to the other side to find now there was a high chance of rolling down into the 300 foot drop to the bottom. Barely escaping that with no navigation, the feeling of being lost over came me. I knew those are the mountains to the east, the sun is high but clearly oriented coming from the east knowing the time, and the green lusher landscape you could see to the west when up high on a peak where you can also often see the road. It’s a way out, go that way till again your at the top of the peak and a cliff again. Sometimes he said fuck it and we barreled down the hill super fast bouncing high and then skidding up the next peak until I see rvs. That way. Not up that hill, that way, the easy way. There was no easy way. The dunes continued to throw surprise after surprise that had me foot on the dash, arms clinched around my dog when not desperately looking for something to hold onto but continuely feeling like I could potentially be in a jeep with the crazy Wacko in death proof with the killing of the girl in the no seat cage that was the passenger seat.
Never again. Never ever will I ever take risks like that with my life again. Probably mostly safe-ish in a roll being a jeep, but no. Lack of preparedness on a mildly hot day stuck 30 miles out in sand dunes after a roll accident and having to walk back would have been the most brutal stranding yet for me living in the dreaded summer dessert. And it’s only spring time.
Still friend and didn’t mind being called all pansy ass nicknames for my squeals, screams, and full on panic at times that I felt I hid well while I was planning how best to not get hurt by the reckless lack of concern and ex marine fighter pilot daredevil with a potential death wish.