Fifty at Last

First day of spring for me means the arrival of another birthday, another year older and wiser. Robin and I took the day and drove over to Moab, Utah for the annual Jeep Safari. Jeep enthusiasts come from all over the country for what amounts to the Daytona 500 of four wheeling.

There you will find Jeeps of all different flavors, blends, and horse power. We went there primarily to visit the vendor showcase which is an after market parts heaven for Jeeps, rock crawlers, and dune buggies. Touring the various booths, one quickly realizes this motorized venue requires a certain amount of mechanical aptitude; these guys like to break their vehicles more than they like to fix them up and trick them out.

This is an insane motor sport where man and machine are pit against extreme terrain, vertical rock walls mostly, and boulder fields strewn with rocks the size of refrigerators. Personally, I can’t understand the attraction of jostling around in a roll cage, flipping over several times and catching fire, not exactly my idea of a good time. I have better things to do than turn wrenches all day, and I love my Rubicon too much to trash it for shits and giggles. Hum . . . perhaps I’m getting too sedentary in my old age.


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