“Frenchy, wanna go on an adventure?”

Even though Sunday was supposed to just be a quick visit to meet my friend Mike’s newborn son Lucas, whenever the possibility of an adventure pops up, I don’t need to be asked twice. To look at him, you’d think Mike just a mild mannered guy, but I know better. Mike, an accomplished ultralight pilot, motorcyclist and 4×4 offroad enthusiast, has wrecked, crashed and otherwise destroyed all three types of vehicles, and hasn’t always been able to walk away. He has a big insane streak. I’ve learned in the past, any adventure with Mike will most likely involve beer, mayhem, damage, and carnage of some sort. And, of course, his adventures always include a lot of laughs. How could I turn an offer like that down?

“Sure Mike, whattta ya got planned?”

Mike already had the whole day planned, with not one, but two great adventures. “First, I thought we’d take my Jeep and go four wheeling up in Left Hand Canyon, and if we make it out in one piece, I’ve rented us a sport plane for a nice sunset flight over the mountains.”

“I’m in. Let’s go!”

The Jeep, a 1957 Willy’s body with a mish mash of other parts Mike’s installed over the years started after a little TLC and some coaxing. As always, this wouldn’t be a proper Mike adventure without an ever-present element of danger, even for just the drive to Left Hand Canyon. This sign on Willy’s dashboard proved we were on a proper adventure as soon as we pulled out of the driveway:

Soon Mike and I were on our way to adventure number one – Rock Crawling!

Being Memorial Day weekend, there were a lot of other 4×4 enthusiasts on the trail.

We ended up in a traffic jam in the middle of the woods, but it was OK, because 4×4 guys love to drink beer, bullshit, and watch other 4×4 guys destroy their vehicles. Of course a lot of that bullshitting went like this; ‘Nice rig! What kind of lockers you running?” and “Is that the 33 or the 40 on there?” You know, real manly stuff.

My one contribution to the Man Show bullshit fest was, “Err… I’m from Rhode Island, and we don’t have any of this stuff at all. You guys ever want to go for a sailboat ride or see some lighthouses, let me know.” Other than that, I mostly took pictures, keeping my ignorance to myself.

I met Ben and TJ, two guys that had taken Toyota pickup trucks, stripped them down, then highly modified them in to serious rock crawling rides that looked something straight out of a Mad Max movie.

These things were serious. They went up and over huge rocks, some the size of Volkswagen beetles and bigger.

During one traffic jam, I asked Ben if he’d let me ride with him over a particularly big rock. He happily agreed.

As I strapped in, the reason for his apparent happiness became clear. Before we moved, Ben turned to me and said, “Just so you know, I am drunk as hell right now, so whatever happens, it’s your own responsibility, man.”

I did what any sane person would do in that situation. With a shrug, I told him to shut up, step on it and get us up and over that rock.

He did.

What a laugh! Seriously, cheating death has never been so much fun.

Mike got caught up in one tricky section, and while trying to get over a rock, poor Willy let out a loud ‘CLUNK!’ Me and the rest of my new rock crawling buddies all let out a collective, “Uh oh.” That sound just couldn’t be good. And it wasn’t. Seems Willy came down a little too hard on one of the rocks, and a snapped axle was the result. Mike checked it out, then shrugged and kept going. We were in the middle of the woods anyway, and had already cleared the most difficult section, so what was the worst that could happen?

Fortunately, nothing. Willy the Jeep held it together and returned me and Mike safely to his house.

But just because we cheated death once didn’t mean we were done. Not by a long shot. It was time to go flying.

The plane, a Evektor Sportstar was even smaller than it looked. There was a yoke attached to the front wheel, which I expected to be attached to a tractor which would tow the plane out of the hanger. Instead, Mike grabbed the yoke and dragged the plane out by himself.

The tiny plane weighs a little over 750 pounds, or about as much as Rain Cloud Follows does fully loaded. But my motorcycle doesn’t fly, at least not intentionally. I was starting to wonder if this little plane would, and if so, for how long.

As far as I can tell, Mike, the guy that drove a Jeep with a broken axle up a rock strewn trail then home, only takes one thing seriously, and that is flying. I saw a different side of my friend as he went through his pre-flight check of the craft.

He was actually serious. Satisfied that everything was airworthy, we climbed in, and taxied out to the runway.

As I said before, it wouldn’t be a proper Mike adventure without a warning of danger. This sign was fastened to the passenger side of the cockpit. I think the last warning should have been on Mike’s side.

With a few cryptic radio calls, we rolled down the runway and were soon airborne over beautiful Colorado.

Our hour long flight took us to about 2500 feet, and we lazily banked around the sky, all the while watching for other aircraft. Thought the clouds looked intimidating, the ride was smooth, the scenery was stunning, and the entire plane ride was honestly a great time.

Mike even offered to let me fly the plane for a while, but flight is something I prefer to leave to the professionals, or at least trained pilots.

After sightseeing for an hour, we banked left, came around, and without dying, crashing, breaking or even damaging anything, we simply landed, a slightly disappointing ending to an otherwise fantastic day.

Author: frenchy