I was on a motorcycle ride in the forest and I was happily lost. Eventually, I started thinking about lunch. I had a self heating MRE and planned to “cook” it on a picnic table at Raspberry Hollow. I dug out my gadgetry and, through the miracle of GPS, discovered I was in the general vicinity (which I expected) but miles from any trails on the map (which I didn’t). I was on a trail, looking at a map which showed nothing at all. This is OK. The map is not the terrain.
I backtracked a bit to the power line, found a service trail along side, and followed it. Judging from compass bearings, sooner or later it would cut across forest system road XYZ. It did. I headed left, then right, then hit something odd… pavement. I’d arrived at “civilization”.
I wasn’t familiar with this area. I was on County Route ABC which was paved and led from Town A to Town B. Both towns are less villages and more like a handful of buildings that was once maybe the hope for a town… but not much more. An artifact of survey lines and a few aging residents. I headed toward Town B, which was en route to Raspberry Hollow. It had a teeny tiny little single pump gas station which somehow the EPA hadn’t yet driven to extinction. Behind that there was a coffee shop! I wandered in, the shop wasn’t open. It was under construction. Two guys with circular saws were hard at work. Capitalism? In America in 2021? I bid them the best of luck and meant it.
They told me the only nearby food was at “The Crown” and waved vaguely in a direction; as if anyone with a pulse would know where “The Crown” was. I thanked them and rolled back out, past the pump (which was not in service), and on the paved road that would lead to Raspberry Hollow. I love having a license plate on my “off road” machine!
A mile later I spied “The Crown”. I pulled into the empty lot and was shocked to find it open. I forgot all thoughts of an MRE and ordered the best pulled pork sandwich a man could want.
While I was waiting three UTV’s pulled up.
Some pedantics: An ATV is an off road device where one person sits over the engine which is in the center of the machine. The operator steers with handlebars, as God intended. I expected these to rule the hinterland but their time passed some years ago; while I was otherwise distracted. A UTV is an ATV that’s become much more expensive and sophisticated. It’s been bloated up and “car-ified”. A bench seat accommodates two people (sometimes two benches accommodate four people). The driver sits on one side (not the center) and uses a steering wheel. Conversely, OHM is an off highway motorcycle (which may or may not be street legal). The driver of an OHM is a crotchety bearded blogger who’s too old for such things and should have a UTV like everyone else. The only explanation is that he’s too obstreperous to take on payments like a proper American.
I have seen only a scant few OHMs in the forest. More ATVs but they’re surprisingly uncommon for something that was practically the only game in town only a few years ago. UTVs are the vast majority. They’re approachable to the masses. They’re more car-like, have roofs and doors and windshields (and often stereos and heaters). They’re easier to operate and have handy “truck beds” in the back to carry Budweiser and a raincoat. They’ve almost completely displaced ATVs. The median age of UTV drivers is a surprise. It seems closer to “Boomer with a golf cart in Phoenix” than “young Millennial hunter looking for elk”. Live and learn.
Anyway, tiny little Honey Badger with various survival gear strapped to it wound up squatting next to the impressive UTVs. It looked like a dusty saddled horse parked next to three showroom fresh trucks. I felt bittersweet distance from my fellow man.
The bar filled up with however many people rode in the three UTVs. Half a dozen at least.
I was glad to see them so happy. I wondered what it is about me that makes me ride alone? I enjoyed my meal and rolled out.
Later it occurred to me, the parking lot had 3 UTVs and a dirtbike. Not a single car, truck, or minivan in the vicinity. The hinterland really is a different place.