AnswerID: 219412 Submitted: Saturday, Feb 03, 2007 at 07:42
Robin
replied:
Hi Kim
Bit late for friday night but keep the following for next , which I plagerized from another site I moderate.
Robin Miller
Subject: - Failings of a Patrol Owner
The others on the trip did not want to do the optional. So, the optional!
Daniel, Michelle and I are at the top of the hill climb, enjoying the view.
The optionals done no worries. I theorize the hill climb was a good idea,
cos now we wont have to wait at the service station air pump for long to air
back up. Wed be there in a few minutes..........
There was an unsually slippery muddy section that had alot of water, and was
water soaked swampy loose soil sorta terrain. Coming along from the
optional, a mud hole with a vertical wall of mud, the 35" Baja Claws were
the thing for it as my truck scramlbed into the earth for traction. A bit
excited, I toot the horn and egg on Daniel to have a go. Daniel got a good
way up the ledge, but ran out of traction on the crest. Soon it became
apparent he was bottomed out and no effort from the wheel in forward or
reverse would see him free. Nothing big, lets simply go the snatch. First
snatch. Hmm second snatch. Ok second gear low this time Im going to really
nail it and my foot aint moving till his truck does! Aarrrggg no go, but it
did climb a bit. A kind guy hears us on the UHF from the trip, and he asked
if we needed help, no thanks, well be right besides Ive got the mighty
TIRFOR! Refusing to be beaten by the stupid mud hole that could never in the
wildest imagination of any self respecting enthusiast shame the Patrol
vintage, we decided to snatch Dan out the other way, with gravity working
for us. It was into dark now, the sun gone from the sky, and I had not
noticed the now huge holes I had dug trying to snatch Daniel out, the Claws
digging their way to China to find any elusive traction below the surface.
High and dry on the diffs front and rear PTROOL was going nowhere.
Flustered, the obvious arrogance of this stupid mud hole was going to be
taught a real lesson with my Tirfor. Where is my Tirfor handle? Hmmmmmm. Aw
crap, WHERE IS MY WINCH CABLE! Someone give me some downers and a straight
jacket, how totally ridiculous someone shoot me I know exactly where they
are, its in the garages of my bloody house! Sliding around in this
bottomless black and gray goo, the depravity of the situation was bearing
heavy on my mind, cast down from the heavens of Patrolness, that celestial
fire within the combustion chambers.........No more, filled instead, those
hot housings seeping in that cold rank gritty crud into my drivetrain. My
swivel hubs. My rear diff. That exhaust noise muffled by the water that
covered it, gurgling onwards like some crazed boat motor. Shutdown.
Darkness. Silence. Nothing, Nothing. Faint demonic whispers from the bog
hole, whos taunts echoed through the mountains in a cacophony born of sin.
Is it worse to die in the bush, or to call on the mobile that my better half
had now identify the needed components from somewhere within my three
garages, to proceed into her vehicle, to drive to the nearest sealed road
and to deliver the missing bits to us? For Daniel and I to trudge it out
onto the road, wait, to crawl our way back through the it all again?
Motivation, my brothers, is best fuelled by hate and vengence, the desire to
show this cursed bog hole that it cant contain my vehicle for any period of
time. To cast this bastard of evil hell spawn back, to cleanse the land.
Having now survived the wroth of my girl, and capitulated to the inevitable
hold she will have over me for an untold period of time from hence forth,
Daniel and I set out into the darkness to wait for the Tirfor bits. My legs
ached, breathless, the hills gawrrddd the hills.......Saved only for Daniel
and his good company. Emily arrived after what appeared to be enough time to
create another universe, and now posessing my tirfor handle that gave me
more power than the greatest sword, and a tirfor cable that could tame any
foul beast this atleast made the incessant walk back something remotely
realistic. Plotting the demise of this wrecthed bog hole was motivation
enough as each leg passed the other, countless times, in the bush, in the
dark, an obsession.
Assembled. Equipped. Single line pull here we go. The shear stress of the
Tirfor pin is somewhere over 1.6 tonne. The hand winch refused to budge now.
A giants strength was needed that no man posesses. Right. Ive got a snatch
block. This was it, this was the death blow. Now at 3.2 tonne capacity
nothing was going to stop my truck from being pulled out. Recovered, turned
around, side stepped the holes and pulled Daniel out in reverse. Daniel had
dug himself an impressive approach to China as well, the once vertical ledge
a series of holes and steep ledges apart.
Yep, we were out. It was only after 10pm now. Not enough time for dimentia
to sent in from lack of dehydration. Hmm maybe dimentia caused me to forget
the stuff in the first place. Tonight I shall say my Patrol prayers, and
maybe the gods will forgive me in my dreams, and give me the wisdom for
another day.
Reply 4 of 9
