Imagine yourself flying down highway 385. The roaring of Swampers, the rattle of Glass packs and a good stiff breeze blowing the remaining sweat from your eyes. The temperature is near nineties, and the sky is cloudless, a perfect day for wheeling. As you gaze over to the drivers side to see how the engine temperature is doing, (yes you are supposed to do that), you notice the steering wheel change position, but you do not feel the response. You brush it off, as you must have just missed the sensation. Yeah, that’s it… you are tired. A little further down the road and the engine starts dying. A Chevy man at heart and a passenger you immediately dismiss the struggling engine as it must be a “Bronco thing”. As you glide into the next curve and kinda veer off onto the shoulder nearly missing a speed limit sign, you hear your pilot exclaim under his breath “$h@@%#*!! Ok, now you have my attention!
If you had been with us two weekends ago that’s the kind of adventure we encountered. Cory Kittle and his Bronco, Steve Berg in his Bronco, oops…. I mean Jeep, David Renchler and his Blazer, Blair Austinson in his short box Chevy, Ryan Kulesza in his Wrangler and Jessica and myself in my trusty steed were all part of quick romp in the hills.
We were supposed to warm up on Dugans and finish off with Full-size. It would be just enough to give some newcomers a taste of the hills, and for David, his last taste of the hills as he takes on a new job in Spokane Washington. However supposed to’s and what the four wheeling god’s had in mind were obviously two different agendas.
I had just recently made the oil line repairs from the Thirty hours of Purgatory run. Everything seemed ok. No oil leaks. We met at the corner of 385 and 44 at nine and believe it or not, Jess and I were the first ones there with time to spare! Cory showed soon after and then Steve and the others. We then motored off to Dugans. There was some crackling on the radio complaining of diesel smoke…. Must have been a passing logging truck. Anyway we arrived at the trailhead by ten and then locked in and started up the trail, after a quick b.s. session and some removal of parts on a pick-up. You know quick trail adjustments.
Everyone seemed to be rolling along pretty well. Although Dave decided to re-bend his bumper on the same tree he hooked it on in May. Can you say learning curve? The trail was pretty dry except for the bottoms of the deep holes so everyone moved along at a pretty good pace. I got out after a pretty good little section as I knew my gold Blazer’d friend was gonna need a hand. There was quite a bit of noise or otherwise serious revving of a built 327 to keep her running. Darn those Edlebrock carbs. But after a bit everyone made it through without too much harm. As I started back to my rig, I spotted some oil drops that were oh too black to be anyone’s but my own. So I popped the hood and yep, I guessed it, the oil line that I had just replaced was leaking pretty good or pretty bad for me I guess. A little duct tape… there we go…. slowed it down a bit.
By the time we got to the last section which I promptly found… Ok, ok I passed it first, but I was just checking out the lower section first to see if we could go out there. Feel it gettin’ deep yet? Anyway the rest of the gang took to the washed out section as I applied even more duct tape to mine. Wanted to slow the oil leak to a trickle at least. We ate lunch after a brief butt whippin to the two-fullsize fellers, naw they did all right for rookies I guess. We then made off to the highway to head to Fullsize. I had decided to drop my Valdez mess at the corner of 385 and pick her up on the way home. Jess hopped in with Steve and I jumped in with Cory.
Like a scene out of the movie Planes, Trains and Automobiles, it was then that the Fourwheelin’ god’s started messing with us. It started with the steering thing. The wheel would turn, the Bronco wouldn’t. Hmmm…. Then the spittin’ and stalling thing, kinda like we were out of petro… no still had some. I suggested we pull over at the next turn-off. Whoops, hmmm… that was close and it said 55! Ok let’s pull over. Cory applies the brakes and… Nothing! Yikes!!!!!! Now I am waiting for the deer to cross the road and a semi in our lane, perhaps the top could come off and a fire could start in the cab. Next pull off, we finally get the poorly running, non- steering, no brake having Bronco to a halt. Whew!!! As we get out to check the damage we notice a little problem with the left rear. First it’s protruding about six inches outside the fender flare and second, the brakes should work because there is plenty of shoe left! Wait a minute… that ain’t supposed to be doin’ that. Seems a Currie axle decided to cut loose and work it’s way out! No wonder the steering wasn’t so better!
After much heckling and many picture poses we got the axle back in and not too much damage was done. However, we did learn to bring plenty of folding chairs and cold drinks to provide the cheering section for the repair crew! We decided to call it a day at that point, to save ourselves of course from those evil fourwheelin’ gods as you never know what they may have in store for you!
Written by: Todd Beutel