A night with Aaron and the 4-Wheeler

A night with Aaron and the 4-Wheeler
I have many fond memories of the 4-wheeler. At first I was a bit hesitant to use it at its full potential in fear of breaking it and having to then deal with telling dad what happened. All my reservation however flew out the window one night when Aaron took me for a ride. I was taught just how far the limits could be pushed before tipping or being flung from the moving craft, and even then it wasn’t that hard to push back up-right or get yourself back on and continue. I was impressed that the only reason off road vehicles existed was to push the limits, theirs and yours, and in doing so risk life, both theirs and yours. If not they just were not that exciting. One of the selling points about the 4-wheeler was that (unlike the motorcycle) it had working headlights so I didn’t have to hold a flashlight for Aaron. This was a real treat because he could decide when the appropriate time to go into stealth mode was and didn’t have to rely on me hearing him yell it over the howling 60+mph wind. But the best part of ridding with Aaron was that if it broke or we “broke” he was the one that should have known better and I would be the innocent victim. Yeah, ridding with Aaron was alright.
This one night that I speak of was, I think, Aaron’s first real ride as well, so I felt honored to partake in it. I think we waited ‘till about ten so dad would be asleep. We filled the tank with gas then bounced on it to somehow get the gas to go down. It did and we continued the ritual till we had succeeded in the ultimate top off. We drove down the gravel road took a left on to Concord Avenue, a right onto Orchard lane, a right onto Marsh Creek Road. I remember crossing the levee and being at the top of the slight hill on Marsh Creek. The moon was full that night or the sky was really clear because I remember it being a bright night.
Straight.
Soon we came to a bend in the road. If we took it right we would end up passing Round Valley which I don’t think existed then. If we went left we were on Camino Diablo.
Left.
I remember the hum of the tires on the asphalt muffled out by the scream engine muffled out by the howling wind in my ears. Aaron’s hair was flapping. He always had it slightly longer than Matthew and I but not much. I wondered if I should grow mine out like his, it was. But then I would have to “train” it with a hat to not go forward and that was too much trouble. I was getting cold now but would never tell him that. He seemed to live for pain and limits and cold was a form of them. I remembered that he seemed to enjoy the pain that cutting weight for wrestling caused him. I once questioned his sanity when I saw him open his mouth and scrap his tongue with his index finger to display a marshmallow size wad of cotton mouth while cutting. I remembered this and knew that cold was nothing compared to that.
I didn’t really know what he was looking for, maybe we were just going as fast as we could, But if that were all why not just stay on Concord Ave? Maybe he wanted to get another cable to make a zip line. I was with him when we go the first. We used the motorcycle then. I was the first to ride the zip line, I was the first to fall, and I was brave in front of his friends, or a fool, but I felt brave.
Cold.
We slowed down almost to a stop. Had he found what he wanted? I didn’t care, at least the wind stopped. We slowly coasted along looking for what I finally understood to be a way in. You see, we were out on the street where very little mud could be found. But in, on the other hand, was much better. Inside the freshly watered orchards you could find as much mud as desired. And that is what he was looking for. After all, 4-wheelers are not for asphalt. This is why the tires complain like they do. They make no sounds of complaint in mud. But why not find an orchard closer to home? Ah, that’s why, we needed a baby orchard; Aaron knew that established orchards would have grass or simply mowed weeds. This would not give us the full “mudding” experience. No, we needed a newly planted and watered orchard. Aaron some how knew exactly where to go. We found a way in.
Mud, lots of mud
We spoke of how we needed to erase all evidence of this night once we arrived home. On the screaming trip back I thought there would be little evidence left at the rate I saw and felt the mud flying of the back. We made it down the gravel road, parked in the drive way and hosed it off. Aaron made fun of me for tucking the black rubber boots up into my jeans. After we cleaned the 4-Wheeler it looked spotless to me and seemed to be clean enough for him because we called it a night and went in. The next day I went out to look at the machine to find it looking as if some one and dumped a truck load of mud on it and let it dry. Had we even cleaned it at all? I never heard a word about it, and besides, I would be the innocent bystander of one more of Aaron’s wild adventures.
I owe all of my wild times on the 4-Wheeler to that night. All my jumps, spills, tips and even endos. All my bloody elbows, branch whipped eyes, scraped skin and swallowed bugs. All the times I threw myself and my passenger from the moving mass were a result of that night. Thanks Aaron for showing me how to use the 4-Wheeler, and sorry dad for using it that way.
Michael 2005