...let me listen I will learn to speak the old language yes I yearn to bathe in blue skies and fall apart from the world of machines, regain my feet and my pounding heart" -- Roger Clyne, Buffalo

No one ever tells you about what just might happen inside when you pick a road, a dirt one, and drive it...or walk it, crawl it maybe. Whatever satisfies that urge I suppose. But there is a good chance you've never just seen a road that perforates a wild looking land of boulders, pinon, century plants, and just had some uncontrollable desire to see where it went.

But it happens to me all the time.

A grave inconsistency coexists, somehow, with this urge and how I satisfy it. I have a gas-guzzling Jeep, and in certain circles I might be known as a tree-hugging, boulder-kissing, jackass. And I still believe in the power of blue skies, where I can "fall apart from the world of machines." But inner improvements often get shaped by opposing forces; so let's celebrate our inconsistencies. My wonder-wanderings in the wild are rarely about testing the gear and equipment on my vehicle; while I spend a good deal of time and money making additions and modifications to my Jeep, (and I'll borrow from Lance Armstrong here) it's not about the Jeep.

And Yann Martel also says something similar, "A book about Portugal in 1933 is not about Portugal in 1933."

All of that to drive the point: bathing in blue skies, how ever you can, is far more important than the gear and equipment on an off-highway vehicle.

This road, FR 2466, cuts between Devils Canyon and Rawhide Canyon, near Superior, Arizona. If I remember correctly, it is approximately 2 miles east of Magma Mine Road. For an off-road excursion, it's easy.

While getting air back in my tires at the gas station in Superior, a heavy, middle-aged man with a beard and a baseball hat approached me.

"Hey," he began pointing at my Jeep. "You use that snorkel very much?"

"Every time the engine is on, buddy." I winked, trying to be good humored.

"Ha. I mean the water. You ever go in that deep?"

"Well, I've been up just past the hood once in a flash flood - and it was scary has hell. At least my engine could breathe. I've got the snorkel really for getting clean air; then again, why do any of us put stuff on our Jeeps anyway? Know what I mean?"

"Yeah. You locked in either axle?"

"No. My rear axle is just a Dana 35, so I think putting a locker in that would be dangerous. It has a limited slip differential, and I've used the e-brake trick in a couple of circumstances for the locking effect." He looked puzzled at this, and changed the topic.

"I've got a eighty-two CJ. You know anyone who wants one? I restored her up from nuthin. And I mean nuthin. It had been buried in mud fer 'bout three months. My buddy and I dug it up and spent 3 years getting it running again. We put in a Dana 44 with a Detroit, a new engine from a YJ, all new interior, bed-linered the tub, chrome wheels with thirty-fives. The works."

"No, sorry man'

"No big deal. So, you ain't gotta locker in that thing, but you gotta snorkel? How the hell you do any trails out here? You can't do squat in Arizona without bein' locked....."

Like most middle-aged men with a young guy at his mercy, he lectured me on how tough Arizona trails are and how important certain pieces of equipment are absolutely necessary.

How do you go about telling someone, I'm just out here trying to regain my feet and pounding heart. Try interrupting with that one...