We traveled up to Massachuetts for a two day ride on the Mohawk trail. Not to ride the trail on horses but in a Jeep wrangler.
I’ve had about three Jeep wranglers, one hard top, two soft, all with sticks. I like them; they’re very lesbian to me.
The leaves were turning their beautiful north eastern shades of vibrant colors and there was a sweet crispiness in the air when we arrived at our destination along with 500 people in Jeeps. We were at a Jeep Jamborree. How the hell I ever convinced the Wife this was going to be the best ever vacation is beyond me.
Here’s how it goes with Jeep Jams. You split up into smaller groups, say like 80 vehicles and go off into the wilderness that has trails. All of the trails were pre-qualified by the Jeep people prior to our arrival so they were all rideable. There were spotters on the white knuckle sections of the trail; they would help you through the good stuff like mud ponds, boulders, or when the angle of the Jeep got close to 45 degrees. Spotters would signal the drivers on how to safely steer over these obstacles.
Most of the Jeeps were geared up for this type of adventure with fancy things that raised the vehicle 5 feet off the ground and with tires that you would lose your fist in the treads. Not mine. I had what was called a “stocked” Jeep, as in off the showroom floor, as in having none of the above. The first morning out on the trail was H.E.L.L.
I lost count as too how many times I got stuck and either had to get pushed or pulled out of the portion of a trail that bit me. The Wife and I had some very interesting loud conversations going on too. I also lost count on the number of times she told me she hated me. Turning around wasn’t an option since there were 60 some Jeeps behind us. Neither was pulling over. At one point the line of Jeeps slowed down to a crawl then stopped and that really worried me because it only meant there was a big bite me obstacle ahead. I was right.
As we turned the tree lined corner I saw why I was hearing the shouting of people, the revving of engines and the sounds of metal scraping along something. Ahead was a steep mountain of boulders and that’s when I pooped a brick and the Wife disowned me.
I watched as the big real Jeeps were struggling up the boulders only to get half way up and then having to be towed the rest of the way. How the hell was my little peanut of a Jeep going to make it up? I kept repeating to myself “holy shit, I can’t do this” “holy shit, I can’t do this”. And as it got to be my turn to drive up the impossible I heard on our CB, “hey, those are two girls in that jeep!” and at that second I decided “I can do this”. It was our turn.
As the Jeep tilted from one side to the other, I shifted my eyes from one spotter to another as we ascended the mountain. We got past the dreaded mid point where others had failed. I watched and listened to the next spotter as he signaled me the right direction and speed. We were getting closer to the top and then, and then we made it. We fucking made it to the fucking top of the boulder mountain in our little peanut Jeep!! Everybody started cheering us with shouts, applauds and honking horns. What a feeling that was. The Jeep with the 2 girls made it to the top of Boulder Mountain unassisted. For the rest of the day I was able to drive through anything without any problems and I was having a blast. We found out that night at dinner that I was the only woman driver in the whole bunch too. Dyke ego booster.
The next day we got stuck once. I had gotten a third of the way through a mud pond but no one had made it without some help. That vacation gave me adrenaline highs, scared the crap out of me and when it was all over gave me a feeling of big time accomplishment. On the other hand, the Wife gained a few more gray hairs and a nervous twitched that lasted a week. I owed her big time and I lost my vacation privileges for the next two years with that choice.
Dyke : 10
Dyke : 10
Femme : - 2
The Wife with her purse and mud up to her knees.