'round n' back again
Explorer
Ah the Anza Borrego.
never have i seen so many jeeps in my life.hundreds of jeeps -and one montero. im looking kinda ragged in the midst of all this finery.
jeeps of every vintage.
but california classy . not like our junk up here in oregon.
really nice stuff.
i lights out and finds me a suitable camp spot. a place along a road that turns out to be a super highway of the jeep trail kind. tour trucks, families, jeepers and kids all pass along. i smile , nod and wave. im happy to just be out of the rain. windy cool, -keep smilin.
later in the week my kids fly into long beach. me an montee and dog run up there to get them.
i had come in off the desert. and was staying at a buddhist monestery. something i had planned on doing. was genuinely a positive thing. so get kids, life changes from my agenda to theirs. go here, go there.
get a motel with showers.
we do. i get ready to take them out again on the desert.
leave trailer at motel cause kids don't wanna camp.
been rainin. wet everywhere. leave out of pauma valley motel. headed for the desert.
food, yup, kids, yep
dog yup.
ok here we go.
we gets out on the trails, girl kid is on her phone the whole time.
boy kid i let drive. he bouncing around getting some trail time in.
Now last year at the farm, just screwin around, he rolled the rhino, and crushed a friends foot. .
so now he is over cautious, thinking it can happen again.
we rolls down a hill big water bog at the bottom. i hollers for him to boot it cause i dont wanna get wet pushing. he complies montee goes, and then a bit later : "dad, the car quit" sure enough dead. she had fainted, or died. so i gets out an opens the rear door to fetch tools and light.......no tools, no light. left them in the trailer at the motel. jack, jack handle, even the jaw for the hilift. all in the trailer safely parked 65 miles away at the motel.
Great. miles from any place, with dead montee and no tools. no light, little cell service, even if i could direct someone to our location-i didnt know where i was at. two clueless teenagers with their idiot father. Old dog yawns , licks himself stretches, and goes out to piss the bushes.
and we dont even know what killed her.
i have always had a sixth sense for faulty parts. its an intuition. something bugs me about a certain part and sure enough it fails sooner than it should. this intuition helped me in construction mechanics many times.
In this case i had always suspected my coil ignitor, my coil. no good reason other than intuition.
i had stored a spare under the rear seat, igniter coil and bracket.
not sure what the problem is now for i have no multimeter to test-its in the trailer too .
i have my Knipex adjustable wrench and lou, my son, found a dime store plastic handled leatherman multiplier in the glovebox. - something left in there from when i took possession of this rig.
test for spark- dead. ok. i am hating this coil. let me get the spare and pray its not the distributor.
spare out, installed bracket and all.
cinch her down best i can, hook the wires. with the certainty of all the heavenly hosts whispering in my ear, i KNOW she will fire, and she does. fires , purrs, silky smooth.disaster narrowly averted.idiocy apparently a permanent part of my character. imbicile. dolt, dipped-in-**** hillbilly.
i did some more pondering as lou drove. i pondered the meaning of life and the remarkable fact that i had survived life carrying such a burden of imbecility as my guardian angel.
cursed my stupid notion of driving this machine this far from home. then the clouds lighten the day warms and i become enthralled with how smooth a mitsu can run. how that v6 is likely the finest little motor ever devised by man. that this humble little box on wheels is indeed and with no doubt the equal of any rig on this planet. that the fast boys in their jeeps toss dust on my fine little rig at their own peril.
that i will defend her dignity and her worth to my very last breath. a truly fine machine.
About that time we hit pavement and i took the wheel.
my Montee has yet to give me any trouble now as i write these words in portland 3 thousand miles after that incident.
She is just as fine and stout a little machine with a robust and determined character as any that roll.
thank you
never have i seen so many jeeps in my life.hundreds of jeeps -and one montero. im looking kinda ragged in the midst of all this finery.
jeeps of every vintage.
but california classy . not like our junk up here in oregon.
really nice stuff.
i lights out and finds me a suitable camp spot. a place along a road that turns out to be a super highway of the jeep trail kind. tour trucks, families, jeepers and kids all pass along. i smile , nod and wave. im happy to just be out of the rain. windy cool, -keep smilin.
later in the week my kids fly into long beach. me an montee and dog run up there to get them.
i had come in off the desert. and was staying at a buddhist monestery. something i had planned on doing. was genuinely a positive thing. so get kids, life changes from my agenda to theirs. go here, go there.
get a motel with showers.
we do. i get ready to take them out again on the desert.
leave trailer at motel cause kids don't wanna camp.
been rainin. wet everywhere. leave out of pauma valley motel. headed for the desert.
food, yup, kids, yep
dog yup.
ok here we go.
we gets out on the trails, girl kid is on her phone the whole time.
boy kid i let drive. he bouncing around getting some trail time in.
Now last year at the farm, just screwin around, he rolled the rhino, and crushed a friends foot. .
so now he is over cautious, thinking it can happen again.
we rolls down a hill big water bog at the bottom. i hollers for him to boot it cause i dont wanna get wet pushing. he complies montee goes, and then a bit later : "dad, the car quit" sure enough dead. she had fainted, or died. so i gets out an opens the rear door to fetch tools and light.......no tools, no light. left them in the trailer at the motel. jack, jack handle, even the jaw for the hilift. all in the trailer safely parked 65 miles away at the motel.
Great. miles from any place, with dead montee and no tools. no light, little cell service, even if i could direct someone to our location-i didnt know where i was at. two clueless teenagers with their idiot father. Old dog yawns , licks himself stretches, and goes out to piss the bushes.
and we dont even know what killed her.
i have always had a sixth sense for faulty parts. its an intuition. something bugs me about a certain part and sure enough it fails sooner than it should. this intuition helped me in construction mechanics many times.
In this case i had always suspected my coil ignitor, my coil. no good reason other than intuition.
i had stored a spare under the rear seat, igniter coil and bracket.
not sure what the problem is now for i have no multimeter to test-its in the trailer too .
i have my Knipex adjustable wrench and lou, my son, found a dime store plastic handled leatherman multiplier in the glovebox. - something left in there from when i took possession of this rig.
test for spark- dead. ok. i am hating this coil. let me get the spare and pray its not the distributor.
spare out, installed bracket and all.
cinch her down best i can, hook the wires. with the certainty of all the heavenly hosts whispering in my ear, i KNOW she will fire, and she does. fires , purrs, silky smooth.disaster narrowly averted.idiocy apparently a permanent part of my character. imbicile. dolt, dipped-in-**** hillbilly.
i did some more pondering as lou drove. i pondered the meaning of life and the remarkable fact that i had survived life carrying such a burden of imbecility as my guardian angel.
cursed my stupid notion of driving this machine this far from home. then the clouds lighten the day warms and i become enthralled with how smooth a mitsu can run. how that v6 is likely the finest little motor ever devised by man. that this humble little box on wheels is indeed and with no doubt the equal of any rig on this planet. that the fast boys in their jeeps toss dust on my fine little rig at their own peril.
that i will defend her dignity and her worth to my very last breath. a truly fine machine.
About that time we hit pavement and i took the wheel.
my Montee has yet to give me any trouble now as i write these words in portland 3 thousand miles after that incident.
She is just as fine and stout a little machine with a robust and determined character as any that roll.
thank you
