Adaptive Curmudgeon

The Universe got tired of me faffing about; sometimes coveting this ATV, sometimes lusting after that motorcycle, always in terror of debt, and deeply saddened by the passing of a dog. The Universe threw up its hands in frustration and gave me a solid bitch slap.

Thanks, I needed that.

The machine for me, demonstrated in 13 minutes of excellent cinematography, is highlighted in the video below… as it traverses the Athabaskan Sand Dunes. If you’re interested in cheap bikes, well spoken fellows who aren’t afraid to mull over a bit of philosophy, or Canadian sand dunes I implore you to watch. What better thing are you doing with your time?

And so the decision was made.

[If you have no idea why a series of posts about ATVs is now discussing pre-historic climate, all I can say is I warned you it would get weird. Plus, it all works out in the end.]

My dog died and I lost all sense of time and space, proportion or reason. I put all thoughts of buying anything out of my head. I couldn’t afford even a tiny bit of worldly concerns. Time would pass and I would recover, but for a while I just held on and let the planet rotate.

So… lets talk about planetary rotation. I’m going to oversimplify here because I’m a dumbass blogger trying to tell a story and not an astrophysicist. As I understand it, I’m more or less telling the truth. If I missed something significant, tell me in the comments.

So here goes; the Earth hangs in the void, spinning. All things that spin, rotate about their axis.

It would make sense that the earth’s rotation be exactly perpendicular to the plane of its orbit. That’s how I’d do it. But I’m not God.

The axial tilt (Earth’s obliquity) is somewhere around 23 degrees. Pretty shoddy workmanship if you ask me. If I welded a Subaru axle that badly, the damn thing would blow up.

Then again the tilt, as we all know (or should know) is the root of our seasons. Maybe God knew I liked fall colors. He certainly made clever arrangements to provide North American deciduous trees with a reason to go out in a yearly blaze of glory.

I knew all that. Unless you went to college for something that’ll never merit your student loan bills, you probably did too. Think about it; a couple degrees of tilt is why I hit -40 in winter and 100 degrees in summer… and never the opposite. It’s a big deal.

What I didn’t know was that the tilt has a periodicity. The tilt, apparently, moves.

OK fine, so what? Well if a few degrees of tilt, staying exactly constant in the scale of years and decades is the reason my lakes are frozen now and I’ll be swatting mosquitoes in a few weeks… what about variation in the tilt over centuries.

Enter Milankovitch Cycles. If you’ve been steeped in a modern college and think driving an SUV in August kills penguins in January… you may want to sit down for this next part ’cause this is going to hurt your delicate noggin.

About a hundred years ago. Long before Al Gore roamed the Earth, Milutin Milankovic worked out that eccentricities in the earth’s orbit may have something to do with cycles of ice ages. Remember my last snowflake warning? Well here’s another one. If you’re steeped in modern eco-think you might have to let this one settle a bit; we’re still in the ice ages.

This guy is smarter than you.

This is cute and all, but Milankovitch Cycles cause a side effect that most folks don’t know. Roughly 6,000 years ago about half of what we call the Sahara desert was savanna:

The drier portion of what we now call the Sahara desert was steppe:

Due to orbital eccentricities it turned to dunes This is the Sahara right now:

Compare those photos. That’s some serious change. (Note: I mentioned this whole Milankovitch thing last fall.)

With my dog dead and my heart set on sandy beaches, I thought of the Sahara. A desert that bloomed out of nowhere and kicked the shit out of whatever humans inhabited the region. The earth changed in human time.

I had a desire to see the Sahara… to touch the Earth in a place that’s gone from Steppe to Death.

Of course, I live in Northern North America, none of that shit went down in my area. We were too busy having every living thing utterly obliterated by massive unending sheets of ice.

Well what have we here? The universe never fails to amaze. These are photos of the Athabasca Sand Dunes of Canada. This isn’t directly caused by our Serbian braniac friend Mr. Milankovitch and his space math; it’s due to the secondary effect of ice sheets retreating (which definitely had something to do with space math!). The retreating glaciers trapped behind them a small cold piece of something that you’d associate with camels.

This is Canadian.

This is Canadian too.

No shit. There are deserts IN CANADA.

Canadians. Some with theories about an ostrich… allegedly.

Still thinking of maple syrup and hockey? This is Canada.

Irresponsible Canadians; with guns.

Walking on giant dune, William Dune Field, Athabasca Sand Dunes, Saskatchewan

Who can fail to be amazed by our friends to the north? Those clever buggers squeezed a piece of Morocco into a spare section of the frozen North. I mean, who would look for sand dunes that far north?

In mourning for my dog, I sought solace in the simple joy of learning new things; in this case geography. I’d given up all hope of buying anything  like/near to/related to/of a kind to an ATV. Also, it felt like somehow this had to do with Canada.

I’d started with a Canadian (Michael and his charming dog Esme) driving an Argo (made in Ontario), through Urals (made in Russia), test drove several Polaris (made in Minnesota), almost lit on a Rokon (made in New Hampshire) until I fell on the ice, and then had nightmares over my final decision to finance a Can Am (made in Ontario).

I let the whole thing go. The universe would tell me what to do.

And the universe did know what to do. It solved the whole thing. It sent another Canadian. I wound up watching videos on FortNine.

FortNine has hundreds of videos but one, as if inspired by the universe, set me on a new path. It was as if it were meant for me. If you’ve seen the video, you know what I did. If not, I will post the link. Stay tuned.

A.C.

P.S. Check out photojourneys.ca for their amazing photography!

[You thought I was all about machinery didn’t you? No. Machines are tools and nothing more. Engineering feats are means to an end and that is all they are. More important is this unquestionable truth; we are all going to die.]

A few days after I settled on buying a Can Am Outlander 6×6 I had a bad night. I’d made peace with a $10K+ price tag. All that remained was logistics and paperwork. Time to daydream of summertime adventure.

You’d think we could control our hearts like that. We can’t. My dreams of summer adventure had to wait until I’d passed an inner threshold.

That evening I was in a sorry state. Winter winds were howling. They had me on edge. My back was aching from a fall on the ice and I couldn’t get comfortable. What really mattered was that my dog whimpered ever so quietly in her sleep. A sound as light as a mouse’s step and I was instantly awake and rushing to her side. It was the entirety of my universe that night. My dog was about to die. I rushed to give comfort because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do so for long.

I was acutely sensitive to my dog those last few weeks. Always on call, never truly resting. I was there to ameliorate pain but more just to let her know I was there. Care and love. The clock was ticking. None of us live forever. She was going to die. Dogs live in the now. She didn’t know mortality; it is the burden and glory of a human that we glimpse such things.

That night she slept uneasy and I hovered near. Was this the night? Was the reaper at the door? There was no denying the eminent arrival of death. All that remained was the manner of passing. At this point I’d greet the reaper at the door, make him coffee, and ask only that it be painless… for me or the dog, whomever he came to collect. It was a dark night.

I laid down on the couch and dangled my hand over the side. Resting it on my dog’s head. Her uneasy body, as if lost a bad dream, settled… she calmed. Man and dog are different of mind but akin in soul. I willed unease from her heart to mine. It was my time to bear it. Indeed the dog slept soundly. And then I drifted off too.

I did not sleep in peace. At first it was whimsical. I’ve been bothered by money woes, who hasn’t? But it doesn’t happen often. I’m partially immune; I haven’t been everywhere and I haven’t done everything but I’ve done enough. What I have, humble as it is, is earned. I can earn it again. Thoreau said “I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.” Sound counsel. Unlike the goofy proto-hippie on Emerson’s payroll, I have my own damn pumpkin and will happily grow another if need’s be. Money concerns ‘aint no big thing to me.

But I’d broken the chain; I was coveting expensive shit. I’d been surfing websites and reviews for things I can’t easily own. I’d brought discord into my mind. Envy is a sin as strong as any.

Such a small expense to cause inner conflict. I can afford it if I wish. I generally prefer to keep my powder dry. The easiest way to not fret over money is to not need it. I’ve practiced frugality until it’s a core molecular trait of my every cell. I spend as needed and don’t engage in miserly over-correction, but I don’t piss money away either.

Money isn’t green slips of paper. It doesn’t come from the government. At some level it cannot be gifted to you. You earn it. Mark my words, when you get a “free windfall”… you pay in full. Remember this, if just this week you’re getting a check from the distant and vague rulers of far off DC-land. It’s a resource, it’s necessary, use it well… but you will pay.

Also, money is time. Time is life. Moreover, money is a tool. It is power. It is lever and fulcrum. It can be chains or it can be freedom. I have a great deal of freedom for my humble state; because I don’t let money rule me. I don’t waste it but I don’t covet it either.

The dog snored peacefully and I felt the last sands of her life ebbing. I imagined I could count breaths. Now wasn’t the time apparently. It was still dark and in the cloudless blustery storm I’d lost sense of time. But I was sure she’d see the dawn. Each day was one less day but nobody knows their number. So it is for us all.

I was frustrated with my weakness. I’d be damned if I was going to spend my time worrying. Not about money… it’s too fucking small.

I really don’t like debt. It was already eating at me. Debt I hadn’t taken on was taking it’s toll in advance. The dog slept toward her final days and here I was, no worries save an injured back, and I was tossing and turning. Human fool; allowing myself to waste time on inner turmoil, over something that hadn’t even happened.

“I’m out.” I muttered. And then I fell into a deeper sleep. Freed of envy, I slept in peace. I sailed from a quiet beach.

Until I found a new place. A little island.

What a silly and wondrous thing it is to wander around a little island, barefoot in the sand, thinking “this is my island”. At least for a while… it was all mine.

The feeling was real… because I’d done it. I remember the smells, the winds, the birds, I remember it all. As I type right now, it was just about a year ago.

Plywood and dreams. The cheapest damn watercraft I could make. Did it leave me bereft? Was I sad about it? Was that island a lesser place, for having been discovered without an outboard?

This is David Geffen’s yacht. It cost more than everything I own. Would I trade the memory of one of the happiest days in my life for that yacht? This is the view from my tiny little boat, would the deck of Geffen’s monstrosity be somehow more real?

I awoke with a feeling of peace. My back still ached and my arm was twisted oddly from keeping it on the dog all night. But my heart was relaxed. That morning, my dog and I went for our usual walk, slowly. And then I made coffee.

My dog was going to die and no ATV was worth losing sleep over.

It was a weekend and I “took the day off”. I was thinking of sandy beaches so I started watching You-Tube videos about the Sahara. Everything was going to be fine.

More to come.

A.C.

(Note: For the story of the pictures see my spring 2019 walkabout. For the post with the photos click here.)

[I wish I hadn’t named this the “Mr. Bean” but that boat has sailed. Last post I was enamored with the Rokon, an $8K 2WD motorcycle of the apocalypse. But I was unusually indecisive, as you’ll read if you continue.]

I was all set to buy a Rokon. It was -22 out. No hurry.

Then I slipped and fell on the ice. Suddenly the Rokon’s legendary harsh ride made me nervous. I’m getting old. My dog was getting old. We hobbled about together and thoughts of Rokons faded into thoughts of Ibuprofen.

Life is subject to external forces. None of this had to do with a failing of the machine.

Fearing I was sentenced to sitting on soft seats for a while, I restarted my search. Re-inventing the mental search routine from earlier cogitation but with different starting points I came up with the Can Am Outlander 6×6.

Just look at that thing! It’s pure brute strength in a machine that’s neither a regular ATV nor a standard side by side. It was weird enough to make me happy.

It’s clearly capable enough to go anywhere I’d care to go. I’d given up on street legal but gained what I thought was an easy ride… and enough carrying capacity to bring more camping gear than I own.

I feared I’d gone too weird. I was overthinking it.

On a bitter day I stopped at a ATV store (different for earlier posts) and tried a Polaris Razor. A Polaris Razor is a common side by side and one that would be default for any normal non-blogging not-weirdo.

Who am I to be so picky?

I test drove it and it just didn’t sing.

It was lamesauce drizzled on dull. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an impressive machine, but it has been attacked by lawyers. Throttle response though a slushy transmission made me feel like power was arriving by FAX. The whole thing, whether real or imagined, had the fly-by-wire feel of a carefully detuned fuel injection system designed in a committee meeting. What a bummer.

I got out and walked around. Why am I turned off by anything in the middle of the mass market?

I got back in and the thing slowed to a crawl. I’d forgotten to click the seatbelt and it had a special safety feature that put it on limp mode without the belt clicked. I was being lectured to by the machine! Oh that’s total bullshit in a velvet lined bullshit box!

I clicked the belt and muttered at the dash (resplendent with electronics)… “you’re dead to me”.

Back at the dealer I asked to drive a 6×6… any 6×6. He had none. Apparently, sane people can get by with 4 wheels. “Fine”, I sighed, “give me the keys to that one.” I waved vaguely at a generic ATV with a cargo bed on the back. I think it was a Polaris 570 with a slightly different feature set.

I’ve been using ATVs since they came with three wheels, but almost always for work. Never just for fun. My ATV is 20 years old but I didn’t expect any surprises. I was test driving an ATV with roughly similar powerplant to the Razor that had been “lawyered”.

WRONG!

It rode like this:

Here is an actual picture taken of me while riding:

Holy shit!

Yes, I looked like that rat! That rat is having fun. I had fun!

Where the side by sides and the ACE and the Razor all felt like layers of safety had cooked off every bit of fun… the basic ATV just took off. Zoom! I rode it like I was being chased by dragons. I tore into curves like I intended to break gravity. I got it up on two wheels, threw dirt, ripped sod, caught air, drifted, slid, bounced, and generally did shit that was unwise in the extreme. I only stopped because I was freezing in the cold. Also I knew I was getting sloppy with the last fractions of Newtonian physics I’d started slicing and dicing. Better park this thing before I wind up needing an x-ray.

I get it now.

Side by sides are safe for the kids. If you’re thinking of old people, wives, tax deductions, idiots on your work crew, or just generally allergic to fun… the side by side is tuned for you. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still neat. They’re beer in a world that has whiskey. I like beer. Everyone likes beer.

ATVs, at least the one I tested, have the same motor but without the bullshit. So much more excellence! Damn that test drive was fine!

Now I was sold on an ATV. Possibly the 6×6 but definitely no more piddling about with side by sides. Can Am was still looking better in the specs but I had only Polaris to test.

In my excitement, MSRPs were starting to creep up again. I started seeing $10K approaching on the horizon and approaching fast… but for a machine that’s just loaded with awesome.

Life, as always, had a vote in the matter. Spoiler alert… I never bought an ATV, at least not yet. More to come.

[So here we are, still adding to the story. I didn’t intend to tell the rest. Things might get weird. I intended to stop after the glory of Battleduck, but it happened and it is the silly stuff we need right now. Everyone has been losing their minds and we overlook the value of humor. Even now, I’m 2000+ words into a story that involves not one single politician, nor any mention of our reaction/overreaction to “end of the world #19 in the year of madness #????”. Does anyone regret I’m not bitching/analyzing/navel gazing over the elephant in the room? And what would a serious post even look like in these times? Should I whisper memento mori in every political figure’s ear and then cower in my basement. I’m not interested in that game. One excellent reaction to political stupidity is to follow the advice of a philosopher that said “Screw you guys, I’m going home.”  For non-serious fare, I offer my illogically bemused thought process. It’s for entertainment purposes only.]

First of all, thanks for all the supporting ideas. Folks seem to take my insistence that I roam backroads and trails in something uncommon at my word. Which is good because it’s a core value. If everyone rode a horse, I’d want an elephant. I have no explanation why.

So here are some ideas that popped up in comments:

Highest awards go to the reader that suggested a Kleines Kettenkraftrad HK 101. Outstanding! Alas, they’re rare, Russian, and would surely be a restoration project. I want to ride trails in 2020, not wrench in the garage. Even so, that thing is damn cool!

Someone else mentioned a Manx Buggy. Nice idea and I like a street legal VW base. Delightfully, you can build one new right now. The company still exists! Alas, I don’t have a Beetle sitting in my garage and also a fiberglass buggy, cool as they are, isn’t my style.

Everyone loves the Sherp but nobody’s got that kind of money.

Now for some personal ideas I considered:

The Roxor is an exact explanation about why government pisses everyone off. It’s marketed as a side by side but hampered by the red tape laden society in which we live. It’s basically an old flatfender Jeep with a slightly improved engine and not much else. The EPA and the DOT are on a relentless mission to ruin all the fun in life and modern Jeeps are proof of it. A “modern” Jeep is nothing like an old flatfender. It’s vaguely cool but it’s expensive and closer mechanically to a minivan than a 50 year old trail mastering warbeast.

The Roxor is a near perfect replica of a street legal 1940’s Jeep and it’s sold by Mahindra (of India) in many countries. Probably if the election of 2016 had gone a different way it would never have seen American shores but miracle of miracles it’s here. It’s sold as a side by side, which it is. But, as sold in 2020 is most definitely not street legal. Because sit down and shut up you goddamn peasant!

I like the Roxor and there are situations where they’re perfect, but I want to recreate. Part of that is avoiding politics. I have no desire to dive into a regulatory morass where the ATV trail people bitch that it’s a Jeep and the DOT bitches that it’s an ATV and nobody loves it. If I had 10,000 acres of my own, I’d already own a Roxor and drive it every day. A Roxor is roughly $17K, about the price of a very nice side by side or a mid level 8×8 Argo. I believe Roxors sold in America are made in America.

Don’t laugh at my next entry. It’s called the Halfinger. It looks silly but I’ve ridden in one and they’re super-fun and very tough. They’re rare but not too rare. A restored one (remember, I want to buy and use… not buy and restore) isn’t cheap but not too bad. One in good shape is probably less than one tire on a Sherp and around the same cost as a mid/entry level Argo. They can go pretty much anywhere an ATV can go. There are a few caveats. They’re old and lack some of the amazing suspension improvements of a modern ATV. Consider a Halfinger as capable as a mild side by side. It has the advantage of much more usable carrying capacity and the disadvantage of 40 year old parts to maintain. Shockingly, the diminutive Halfinger is street legal. Amazing!

For “sign on the dotted line and drive it today” instant fun, the Ural Gear Up is a strong contender. The problem with Urals is that they’re overpriced for what they are. A Ural has mostly 1940’s technology but a mostly 2020 price. A Ural will set you back $18 large and that’s as much as a very nice side by side.

Some Urals have 2WD (the sidecar wheel is driven). With 2WD, a Ural is probably as trail ready as any side by side but eclipsed by the beastliest of the ATVs. It’s probably a bit narrower than a side by side but you won’t be snaking though the densest forest. I suspect the ride is not too bad. Maintenance is a sore point for the Ural. They seem very capable and easy to fix but you will probably wind up fixing stuff from time to time. That sidecar can surely hold a shitload of camping gear. The several I test rode years ago shifted like a tractor but were a hoot to operate and not even that slow.

The Ural has the advantage of being street legal and doing so with style if not highway speeds. Alas, it’s not worth $18K unless there’s a Krugerrand in the trunk. That’s just my opinion based on my value of a dollar. YMMV.

Note: the photo is from Ural of New England, if y’all want to sponsor an idiot blogger I’m definitely on board with that.

The Ural is the first serious contended I’d seen with a good dealer network and now I saw that as a useful thing. Also, I was thinking of motorcycles too.

Ever open to new ideas I toyed with the smaller, tougher, weirder Rokon. The Rokon has what seems like a very supportive dealer network and that’s a plus. Also street legal, but with a top speed of “saunter”, the Rokon is probably the most unstoppable thing listed here. (Not counting the Sherp which is just plain stupid expensive. Or perhaps, on land, a Rokon can slip around trees that’ll slow the Sherp. Hard to say?)

Some Rokons (such as the Scout) have something vaguely like suspension. The others don’t. Nobody has ever called a Rokon a smooth ride.

All Rokons are two wheel drive. They have tiny, simple, nearly unkillable engines. They can be kitted out with enough shit to survive the apocalypse. They’re said to be capable of going virtually anywhere and I don’t doubt it. If a Rokon can’t get there you might not even be able to walk there. That said, they may beat you to death on the way.

The Rokon was the first thing on the list to hit my budgetary horizon. You can kit out a fairly high end brand new Rokon with suspension and new beast smell (it sure ‘aint new car smell) for $8K or so.

That’s pretty fair for this sort of machine. Look at the tactical maniac in the photo below; he’s that nuts with a budget suitable for a low/mid level Polaris ATV. It’s not often you can go full batshit on that kid of budget. I think you can even get one shipped to your house. (I haven’t tested that.) With proper care they appear to last forever. With improper care and regular abuse the probably last just as long.

Cheap, ugly, weird, massively overbuilt, slow, uncomfortable, and tough as nails. Yep, I’d found something in my bailiwick.

I settled on the beast for a good long time. I started searching Craigslist for a “deal”. Prices are all over the place and condition ranges from garage queen that never saw dirt to “pile of parts”. Hobbyists seem to love restoring them but that’s not my interest this day. (Image is from here.) Just inches from biting the bullet on financing $8K, I stayed in this orbit for several weeks.

To be continued…

A standard ATV (“engine between your legs” instead of “two seats side by side”) was the obvious solution for me. But it just wasn’t weird enough to suit my personality. ATVs are everywhere. I like to find the middle of the bell curve, and then run from it.

Eventually, I isolated what should be perfect. The Polaris ACE 570 was ideal! A side by side that seats only one. Spot on!

Shielding from the cold winds while winter riding. Roll cage (always a plus). Park your ass in a single seat ensconced within a crash cage. Good sized engine without ridiculous displacement bloat. Maybe slap on a plexiglass windshield for snow riding. Not a lot of electronics (though more than I’d like). I like the combination of wind protection but no heater to break expensively. The reviews warned it wasn’t a speed demon, which didn’t bother me a bit. I don’t care about speed. Reviews also said it was odd; a neither fish nor fowl machine. This made me want it even more. They’re not as cheap as I’d like (nothing is) but they’re solidly under $10K and a few are used. Far cheaper than a mid/entry side by side. There’s a chance of them going out of production, which means cheaper prices but no aftermarket. A big plus for me is that I could spend all day on an ATV trail and never see another one like it.

I was smitten.

I went to a dealer with trepidation. I hate debt so every visit to a dealer is dancing with the devil. Also, I’m a bit stretched after buying a tractor. But time waits for no man and I’m not getting any younger; so, it was best to investigate these critters before the marketing assholes killed it. It was a dangerous time. Mrs. Curmudgeon was aware I was prowling the unseemly fiscally dangerous shoals of expensive motorized toys. If I showed up with a new ATV in the back of the Dodge I’d be skating on thin ice.

Just look at it! A single seat side by side. Not a go-go buggy speed demon, not too expensive, not a fat machine that can only handle trails that are basically roads. I think the size is perfect. A chug through the woods, one man mini-truck. If it passed the test drive, I’d probably buy one.

It was a bitter cold day. I climbed in the seat and immediately appreciated the cab shielding much of the wind. The size was small but well proportioned. A little cramped. I fired her up, easy controls. Not too loud, not too many bells and whistles. Unlike the douchebag in the photo I wasn’t outfitted like a space ranger… because I live on earth, not a liability lawyer’s imagination. (If you need a helmet AND a roll cage, maybe you shouldn’t leave the house.) The limited shielding from the bitter wind was massively appreciated and I mention it many times because it’s huge.

Once I got under way everything was pretty simple. Steering was adequate if not precise. Suspension was adequate. I played around a bit to make sure I knew how everything worked before I was ready to put her through her paces.

Then I floored it. And….

Nothing.

There was no magic. It accelerated with the adequate mediocrity of a minivan. It cornered like a completely acceptable conveyance. It was the non-thrilling Honda Civic of the forest.

I felt like this:

What a letdown! I was driving lite beer when I wanted Tequila.

I’m a demonstrative fellow at times. I got out of it, leaving it parked in the ATV dealer’s long line of gleaming machines and literally shouted at it. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you fun!?!”

The little machine didn’t answer. It probably has nightmares about me. The salesdrone who’d given me the keys was crestfallen. He’d smelled a commission and the test drive had gone all wrong. “We don’t sell a lot of those.” He sighed.

I was completely non-plussed. “What the hell’s wrong with it? It handles OK. Adequate power. Why isn’t it fun?”

He shook his head. “I guess it’s a personal thing?”

Indeed, he hit the nail on the head. The Argo had been too fun. The ACE was too tame. It lacked the spark of adventure. The search would have to continue.

A.C.

P.S. Don’t get me wrong, the ACE 570 is a superb design. If I got one for free, I’d drive the wheels off it. If you’re getting up in years and can’t physically manage an ATV, I’d suggest you get one before Polaris discontinues them. If I had bad legs or something, I’d buy one yesterday. There’s nothing bad about them and I think the overall design and size is inspired. It just didn’t speak to me.

Like all men, I have a moldering old vehicle in my lawn. I’d dearly love to fix it up and return it to former glories. It’ll probably never happen. Like all wives, Mrs. Curmudgeon complains about the junk her husband accumulates, but with a kind heart.

I have a second and weirder moldering old vehicle stashed in a garage. It’s well over 40 years old. We had grand times together two decades ago. It really will be fixed up some day. Or maybe I’ll die first. Hard to say. It’ll be a “restoration” and that’s a very expensive word.

A while ago, I made a mighty effort in that direction. It now starts, runs, and moves under its own power, but it’s still not ready for primetime. It was a setback.

Such is the nature of life. Nobody has time and money to keep treasured devices in usable shape when family and other obligations loom larger. If you’re a retired mechanical genius or you’ve got a budget like Jay Leno you might pull it off… which is why other men envy you. The rest of us muddle through dreaming of “someday when I get that old truck running again”. We take the old jeep or truck on fishing trips, but only in our mind. Most wives understand. They don’t complain too much as their lawn takes on the hue of a junkyard. It’s part of the aging process for the North American Bearded Male. We need to dream.

A few years ago, I started flailing about looking for a smaller bite to chew. I made a few experimental trips with a 20-year-old ATV. It’s too old for such abuse, but the idea took root. I really did have fun.

I have no budget for a shiny new purchase but life is about positivity and dreams. Also, my imagination was fired up by a jovial Canadian with a charming dog (warning: link goes to YouTube channel, and if you have cabin fever the channel will trap you for the rest of the day).

Emporium Outdoors set my mind on the track of Argos and I spent hours pouring over specs and performance mods (despite having no money). After years of resisting the siren song, I test drove one. Links to my brief experience with Battle Duck are here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Cliff’s Notes Version: the beast was awesome and so much fun… too much fun… and not cheap. I welded my wallet shut and ran.

Meanwhile, I wound up buying a perfectly logical tractor for snowplowing and homestead work. It does a great job. It’s excellent. It’s…

It’s not a toy.

That’s the problem. I wanted a toy. I’ve been very good. I’ve lived well. I may be broke but I’m not poor. I’m not reeling from cascading bad decisions and wrong turns in life (for which I’m thankful!). Sometimes you need to give yourself a reward. I wanted to gift myself a pure recreation device and figure I can (barely) swing it. My little sailboat is part of this. Hewn of my own hand and done dirt cheap but well built, it’s a dream realized. I love it. Alas, it doesn’t calm the mind in seasons when the lake is ice (like right now).

I’m just too cheap and odd to stride into the ATV shop and sign on the bottom line so I let the idea simmer over a deep dark winter (and later, a second one, and then a third). I wanted something cheap, ideally suited to my odd quirks, and purely for fun. Almost by definition it had to be impractical. A snowmobile or an ATV is fun, in part, because it’s not a handy minivan for grocery getting. My tractor is excellent, but it is not just for fun.

I grump that ATVs and boats and so forth are ostensibly marketed to “families”. The reason being that it’s easier to sell a toy that’s marked up to ten large (or much more!) if you convince the victims of finance that it’s “for the kids”. I’m out of the demographic of the Ken doll shown in the glossy photos. There he is with 2.2 kids and a trophy wife and not one of them is bitching about mosquitoes. I can tell you right now that such a situation has never happened on earth. Also, there’s nary a spot of mud or bit of deer blood on his shiny gadget. They’re all leering with the dopamine smile of actors. It’s a G-rated fake outdoorsman as envisioned by people who’s main exposure to nature is the Sierra Club poster hanging on their cubicle wall.

The upshot is that ATV markets are going against my grain. They’re getting more expensive, heavier, wider, bigger, more powerful, equipped with comfy cabs, laden with safety features and so forth. They’re also shifting to side by sides (SxS). A single man straddling an engine and steering with a handlebar is turning into bucket seats for two with a steering wheel crouched behind a windshield. The throttle is a pedal and optional radios link to Bluetooth. Automatic transmissions, electronically actuated limited slip differentials (not locking), and on-board heat are replacing simple engines and splashing mud. Our society is aging. Society is losing its balls.

Some of the side by sides go full minivan with two rows of seats. Because nothing says fun for dad like little Tommy and Suzy hunched in the back texting on their cell phones about how they’d rather be home. The machines (which are impressive) are marketed showing four burly men in identical camouflage gear happily carpooling to hunting camp. As if men coordinate their outfits before hunting. I can’t even imagine such a thing. I hunt dressed like a yard sale. In my opinion, big game doesn’t sense Real Tree camo versus dirt smeared denim. I usually hunt alone.

The most elaborate rigs can do pretty much anything a Ford Ranger can do (load capacity, towing, and passengers) and in about the same comfort… with about the same payments. It’s rather impressive.

But they are not for me.

I love heat and comfy seats but too much electronics and tonnage turn a toy into a job. I might as well stay in the Dodge. I wanted as much excitement as my aging body could handle and do it without big payments.

And let’s be honest. I don’t need or want a passenger seat. Mrs. Curmudgeon politely wishes to avoid my adventures (which is wise), the kids are grown up, and my dog is dead. I’ll be out there with all of my friends… which means me and a good book. I’m one of the last few humans who doesn’t confuse solitude with lonely. I retain the mental wherewithal to roam nature alone. I intend to ignore the squawking of safety Nazis and sought the machine to take me there. I am not a herd animal and chafe in the yoke of an increasingly conformed world. Someday folks of my ilk will be gone; groups of twenty will need a professional guide to leave paved bicycle trails, but that’s another story.

Man, that’s a dour paragraph. Better cut it off here and finish the rest tomorrow.

A.C.

P.S. Full disclosure; a single short test drive of the cheapest possible Argo convinced me that I love them and they’re uniquely suited to doing dumb things. Owning one would encourage exactly the worst sorts of decisions. Argos seem to crave absolutely stupidly impassible environments. That’s what I mean by too fun. The one I drove was so quirky and weird and unstoppable and funky that I’d go out of my way to find things that challenge it. The price tag chased me away but if money were no option, I’d get one and have all the fun a guy can live through.