Adaptive Curmudgeon

This is the ninth year (I forgot 2015 and 2018… whoops.) of a my Festivus Christmas tradition where we gather around the warm glow of the laptop and watch A Very Zombie Holiday.

I’ve added another bit to my Quotes & Poems page. I moved my favorite poem, Ozymandias (Percy Shelley, 1818) from my right margin. It’s a great poem but it deserves a better place than my dumbass margin.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

I left the house in good condition but Mrs. Curmudgeon turned the dial to awesome. When I left there was this:

Not bad. I would’ve been glad to sit by the fire wiping out Kentucky’s best export but I had to run an errand. I did my task and pointed the Dodge back home. It was getting late. I texted Mrs. Curmudgeon:

“Heading home. Please pick up a six pack before the liquor store closes.”

I got home to find this!

If that’s not love I don’t know what is!

A.C.

P.S. In case you don’t know why coffee is for closers click here.

Winter hit like a freight train but it’s been a good time for me anyway. Partly because I’ve sparked at least ten dreamers and that makes me as happy as a Curmudgeon gets. Earlier this month I mentioned The Unlikely Voyage of Jack De Crow: A Mirror Odyssey from North Wales to the Black Sea. I also mentioned more popular books. To my delight and surprise, the obscure little book about a boat trip far outshone all others. (Also, everyone but me hates The Road. No regrets! I fuckin’ loved it.)

I’m an odd duck. I read Jack De Crow and it was on my wavelength. It inspired me. I built a tiny boat based on no knowledge, inadequate tools, optimism, and internet advice. Shockingly, the damn thing floated. (My novice construction wasn’t even particularly ugly. Turns out it’s not too hard to build a boat.) I spent part of last summer sailing in plywood bliss. It was the best thing I’ve done in years. There’s nothing quite like harnessing the wind in a craft you made… even if it is a tiny, boxy craft. I’m already planning new boat builds; some serious, some fanciful. I find myself staring at maps concocting new boat adventures and wondering if I’ll ever go there.

I don’t expect many people to think like me. I certainly didn’t expect the little book to appeal to “normal” folks at all. I felt silly mentioning it. I mention lots of things that make me feel silly, few of them gain traction.

I’m glad I did. The Great Database in the Sky tells me at least 10 people bought it. My blog is small time. My Amazon sales are miniscule. I never sell 10 of anything; much less an obscure book about a geeky English guy rowing down canals in Europe. Who knew? (Lest you think this is all commercialism, my cut of 10 books’ sales is less than I’d need to buy a six pack. The real payoff is that people are reading it.)

I’m going to spend Christmas imagining ten people in ten houses dreaming of ten adventures. That’s a happy thought if there ever was one!

…

Monster Hunter usually graces Christmas with a hilarious short story called “The Christmas Noun”. This is a delight and a huge imposition on a writer who’s actually making a living as an author. “Please spend half a month writing free shit to amuse me while neglecting your day job.” I’m always thankful when he posts it. This year it’s not showing up (or at least I haven’t noticed it). That’s cool. He’s got a life. I get that. Also, he cranked out something like 10 Christmas Noun stories over the years and that’s plenty to ask from anyone.

(Note: I also enjoy Dave Barry’s annual year in review. It’s not as good as Christmas Noun but I never fail to read it.)

Missing the Christmas Noun got me thinking. The dude’s busy but in our current society we need every joke we can get. Everyone in public is freaking out like a whiny little bitch and the nation (in fact many nations) seem poised to go full retard over the dumbest shit. It’s the kind of lemminglike madness that’s better greeted by a great big belly laugh than anger. (In fact, the stupid all around us seems to feed off anger. Starve it!)

We need satire and humor and just plain old joy to counteract the vinegar drinking scolds haranguing us at work and bitching at us on social media and barking from our telescreens. If only there was someone writing plain old funny stories.

Oh shit…

What’s the bumper sticker slogan? “Be the change you wish to see.” Something like that? (As an aside, I prefer “Peace through superior firepower” but that’s another topic and I never put bumper stickers on my vehicles anyway.)

I suck compared to Monster Hunter (and Dave Barry), but I already lit the imagination of 10 people and that’s something. And I’ve slacked off on writing. (A man gets busy y’all.) So, for Christmas Eve, I promise to post a prologue to the long neglected serialized novella Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels. Ideally, it’s going to be a single post (1,500 words or so).

Then, if I’m very lucky, perhaps I can get my head out of my ass and finish the next chapter. I started it many weeks ago but got derailed by everything. Soon, I’ll have a few days off work. It’s not easy to find the time but I’ll try. At the very least I promise a Christmas Eve post.

Merry Christmas, y’all.

The semi-enclosed Argo was shielding me from the cold… sorta… and I was having a ball. So why the heck shouldn’t I really test it?

This would’ve been wiser if I knew the area. The damn ATV ditch trail kept disappearing and urban sprawl was obviously encroaching rapidly on everything in the vicinity. I’d be chugging along the edge of a little cornfield on a clear ATV route and then suddenly I’d be scooting across a frontage road. I’d be like “WTF happened to the cornfield? I’m in the parking lot of a Pizza Hut!” It was confusing as all get out. (In retrospect I wish I’d stopped for pizza. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?)

Finally, a break! I spied a bit of that large trail system I’d groused about three posts ago. It was about a half mile away. I was nowhere near it and the land between us showed no ATV tracks. It was the kind of ugly reedy shit that just screams “protected”.

I was on the shoulder of a two lane divided non-interstate that had a lot of traffic. I think technically it’s called the “verge”? It’s the grassy part that slopes away from the road. It’s legal to be there on what’s called (euphemistically) the “ditch trail”. On the other hand, I didn’t see any ATV tracks. (This doesn’t mean it’s illegal, only that locals with ATVs know of a better route.) I decided to follow the road to the trail on the other side of a little swamp.

I charged out on the wide steep sidehill, well below the eye level of cars some 50 yards away and 10 yards above me. Rather unexpectedly, the damn terrain dropped out. The road stayed high and level but the adjacent ground dropped several dozen feet to a dense reedy mess at the bottom. It was about as steep as physically possible for that kind of soil. It was like God took a big open grassy football field and tilted it 60 degrees. (God knows how they mow the brush on the sidehill but the upper part was grassy. Twice a year using something with tracks I’m guessing.)

I slid on the seat (I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt!) and my feet had no purchase on the icy floor. Now I was practically prone on the stupid bench seat. Of course, the Argo didn’t give a shit. An ATV will react to a rider’s weight and they’re easy to roll. If I’d been on an ATV I’d have been lying in the mud 40’ below that spot. If I’d been in a wider UTV? I’m not sure. Well Curmudgeon, what did you just learn about the absence of ATV tracks?

Ironically, two deer stood on the steep hill munching grass. A zillion cars zooming by just 60 yards away but the deer were below the horizon and essentially invisible. Probably during hunting season there’s a thousand of them having a block party right at that spot. Clever critters. They hardly noticed me.

The Argo kept happily chugging along and I could be dead for all it cared. I kept my grip on the handlebars and aimed it DOWN so I could get my ass back in the seat where it belonged. By then I was at the bottom of the steep hill and the situation was a mess. The roadbuilders had just dumped a zillion yards of topsoil right on top of the area (swamp and all). Some half dead trees at the base were sticking out and beyond that was a sea of reeds. The edge was a brushy 10 yard wide wet confusing no-man’s zone of half frozen goop. I’d just driven right into it.

I was pretty sure the Argo would chug right through the center of that mess but who knows if the swamp was tied up in some paperwork definition of irreplaceable valuable wetland (notwithstanding they’d built a highway through it). Better to turn around in the impossibly tight spot without chewing up the reeds or getting stuck. I also wanted to get the hell out of there before someone noticed me and I wound up a laughing stock on social media somewhere. (That said, you could probably live a whole life just below passing car’s eye level and never be seen.)

I popped it into R and the beast crawled backwards up the very steep bank like it was just nuthin’! Wow! It didn’t even work hard. No spinning wheels, no loud motor noise, no shimmying… it just crawled out the mess where I’d put it like a dumbass. I broke out into a sweat but the Argo didn’t.

By then I’d had enough fun. Fuck the big trail system that I never found. I’d done a fair test of the Argo and that was the point. (I’d also changed my mood which was the true purpose.) Time to get back to my truck (and its heated cab).

Unfortunately, I had no clear idea how I’d gotten there. I just kept following the ditch trail more or less the way I’d came. It wasn’t exactly the same way but it was about right. Sometimes there were ATV tracks in the ditch, other times it disappeared into urban sprawl. I was pretty close to the dealer by then.

Then I spied it. The perfect test!

There was an area of ditch that was deeply filled with water. Flooded actually. It was about 8’ wide and maybe 40’ long. It was at least 2’ deep in the center… maybe more. It was technically in the “ditch trail” definition so why not?

I hopped out to put in the two drain plugs and then gingerly… ever so gently… drove it right into the water. Argos are supposed to float. I knew they’re amphibious. This is within their design specifications…

But, until you’ve done it, you’ve no idea! Holy shit it was awesome!

It crawled into the water (which was much deeper than I’d guessed) and then could tell from the feel that no wheels were touching the ground. Some of the water was iced over, but the Argo just smashed the thin ice. The Argo didn’t give a shit about anything really. I didn’t have to rev the engine or spin like a maniac. My feet didn’t get wet, a great splash didn’t erupt and make a mess, there was no drama at all. It slid into that spot like a duck taking to water.

I let off the throttle and just floated… amazed at what I’d just done. No shit, I’ve pulled trucks, cars, jeeps, tractors, and everything else into and out of water hazards and mud pits. I’ve a lifetime of training pounded into my head that games like this end with anything from an expensive repair to a ruined afternoon. Not so for the little Argo.

I was impressed. I named it!

“I shall call you… BattleDuck.”

Slow and easy I churned down the length of it. At the other end it caught traction easily and drove right out of the water, not so much as an inch of wheel spin. Wow!

That was so awesome! I turned around and went right back in, this time faster. I cruised to the end and back out. I think I was most impressed that I didn’t get even a drop of water on me. This was a freezing cold, hypothermia inducing, menace and the machine scarcely noticed it. BattleDuck was truly an amphibious machine. I paused and leaned over the side to check it out… I was in at least 4’ of water!

Then it happened. It’s not true that all fun leads to embarrassment but a lot does.

“What. The. HELL. Are. You. Doing!?!”

I was happily spinning down the water the third time when I heard someone shouting. I paused. I looked up. There was a guy on shore absolutely steaming with rage. He’d definitely like to kick my ass. He was accompanied by an older fellow, probably his father, who looked far less pissed but still somewhat unhappy.

What the hell was I doing?

From one point of view I was driving around in the legal ATV trail in an area that was formerly rural and had grown a lot lately.

From another point of view, I was a random asshole driving around in front of some dude’s radiator repair shop.

That’s not cool. I was super embarrassed.

“I am so sorry sir. I’m a total dick and I apologize.”

“GO. FIND. A. LAKE.”

Good point. Technically I hadn’t broken any rules but I had certainly been rude. I should have found a lake. I apologized as I started to churn to the exit point.

“Sorry, went for a test drive. Got lost. I promise you’ll never see me again.”

The father figure was mollified and chuckled a bit. This caused son to yell at him. “WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT!?!”

I’m sure it’s a faux pas to drive in some dude’s ditch but he was very pissed. Maybe he thought I was tearing up his grass? (I wasn’t, the tires weren’t even touching the ground… but how could he know that?)

By then the old guy was laughing, I was apologizing, the Argo was already crawling up onto the ground (not making any ruts!), and the dude was mad at everyone. “YOU’RE BOTH JERKS!”

I made a friendly hand wave, smiled as best I could, and (before he decided to get up close and personal) blasted down a paved frontage road at maximum Argo speed. He didn’t chase me. Whew!

Ten minutes later I’d turned it in at the dealer. “Gosh, I’m sorry but I may have pissed off a guy at the radiator shop nearby.” The salesdrone was unconcerned. “Meh, fuck him.” I suspect there’s more to the story than I know. He handed me a bunch of brochures and sent me on my way. They don’t bother hard selling Argos; either I’ll come back for it or I won’t.

Conclusion:

Argos are terrible at normal situations and so awesome at weird ones that I got screamed at by a radiator repair man.

I can’t afford an Argo but I grok their allure. I also get why you’d keep the thing far away from towns! I did feel sheepish that I’d done a rude thing… but it was one of those accidental events that just happens. Hopefully the guy finally calmed down and/or stopped yelling at his dad. I also hope y’all got a laugh out of my mild misbehavior.

Also, this happened a month ago. It tamed my Argo lust but didn’t put out the flame. I still miss BattleDuck.

Two months ago I got a tip from Bruce and Kristy. I spent the first half on a set of epic drill bits in October. I just spent the remaining half. In case you’re wondering how long I can savor a tip… the answer is apparently two months.

Here’s the “before” image. Isn’t it sad?

Here’s the “after” image. Isn’t it wonderful?

Merry Christmas y’all!

An Argo is basically a little personal tank. (With a definition like that, how could I not lust for one?) Tanks and dozers steer oddly. On a 6 x 6 Argo, three wheels on one side spin in perfect synchronization with themselves and completely independently of the three wheels on the other side. This is called “skid steer” and it’s pretty common on small heavy equipment such as a “Bobcat”. (BTW: Adding tracks to an Argo is mechanically simple. The only thing you need is a few hours and a wad of money.)

I was ready for a bit of a learning curve and was open to the new experience but holy shit the thing was a hot mess. It handled worse than I could possibly imagine. I was still on pavement and I realize “skid steer” sucks on payment but it felt like I was going to tear the thing in half just trying to get out of its parking spot. After a herky-jerky turn that would make a chiropractor anticipate future revenues, I lumbered down the pavement.

I tried to gracefully head toward the ATV trail but mostly I zigzagged like a drunkard. I had the grace of the helicopter with half of its rotor removed. How bad was it you say? Take a walrus, hit one flipper with a ball peen hammer, feed it two bottles of vodka, kick it in the balls, drop it off a roof, and set it on fire. It’ll still waddle across a parking more gracefully than a 6 x 6 Argo on dry pavement.

I’m sure I’d get better at steering with experience, but what a terrible starting point. Things improved mightily once I got on dirt. At this particular location there was an ATV “ditch trail”. Basically, that means ATV tracks along the road’s shoulder. It was mildly off camber, otherwise pretty flat, and no challenge at all for any ATV. The Argo is short and squat, being off camber doesn’t even bother it.

Every couple hundred yards the “ditch trail” is interrupted by a driveway or whatnot. This means there is a culvert over the ditch and you, the fool driving down the ditch, must climb up over the side of the ditch, cross the driveway, and then clamber back down. Speedy ATVs and hyped up snowmobilers use those natural “ramps” to “get some air” or alternatively “crash”. Since I could barely steer the damn thing, it took me a bit of zigzagging to get up the ramp and then back down but had to admit the Argo was completely unaware of the steep slope. After three or four repetitions I came to a realization: the ATV tracks swoop around the culvert in neat parabolic arcs but who gives a shit? At the next culvert I just drove straight into the ridge just to the side of the culvert, bounced over the driveway, and bounced back into the ditch. What a concept! Steering is a pain in the ass but then again you don’t really need to steer. Sure enough, as soon as I stopped trying to precisely control where the Argo went, the ride calmed down quite a bit. There’s some sort of Zen lesson here but suffice to say people who own Argos can just drive over shit; so why meddle with steering? (This wasn’t a hard-core trail so an ATV could have done about the same thing but it would have been different. Instead of worrying I was bashing an ATV’s delicate front suspension it seemed like an Argo is just built to do that.)

I was anxious to get away from the shoulder of a busy road but instead of turning into a dirt trail it just emptied out in the parking lot of a convenience store. Weird eh? I scooted across at maximum Argo speed and crashed back into the ditch on the other side without carefully looking that it was driveable. I’d only been using an Argo for 10 minutes and I was already plunging down embankments without worrying. I’m not sure what would stop an Argo but so long as nobody’s in the way you get fearless about trying new things.

Eventually I found some dirt trail and (finally!) encountered a smallish log that blocked half the trail. I wasn’t in real forest so that would have to do as a test. I could see how all the ATVs approached the obstacle, shifted to the side of the trail, and gingerly went around. I was already feeling pretty Zen about steering so I just crashed over it. I braced for a terrible impact but all that happened was “boink” and it was over. The Argo is a honey badger on wheels. It don’t give a shit.

Made a wrong turn somewhere and came to a dead end. In a UTV it would take a tight K turn to be headed back out. In an ATV it would take a sloppy K turn to be headed back out. With the Argo I just yanked the handlebars and it pivoted in its own length! I’ve never operated a machine that can turn as tight as an Argo.

Anyone who’s looked at Argos online asks “how fast they go”. There are two answers to this. The first and unavoidable answer is “they go fucking slow”. They have essentially no suspension (save the tires themselves) and “skid steer” does not lend itself to high-speed maneuvers. This leads to the second and more nuanced answer which is “you don’t want to go any faster without a suspension anyway”.

Being a proper test driver, I cracked the throttle all the way and just wound it up. I don’t remember exactly how fast I was going but was probably something like 30 mph. Given the Argo’s steering and suspension it was the equivalent of a Honda Civic going 10,000 mph. Soon I got with the program and slowed down. You simply don’t want to go 50 MPH in an Argo, when you’re sitting in one it’s pretty obvious why.

There are two surprising advantages to this. The first is (I know this is minor) but when I drive my ATV in cold weather the wind makes my eyes water terribly. (I need goggles but always forget them.) This didn’t happen in the Argo. The second advantage is that the motor just has all the juice you ever need. You don’t need to rev it up, you don’t need to wonder what gear you’re in, you don’t need to worry about keeping up momentum in a turn or traction while climbing a hill, and there’s no reason whatsoever to ever care about wind resistance.

I see two disadvantages to the low speed and overall awesome traction. The first is obvious, if you’re on a flat easy trail and you want to get from point A to point B and the distance is large, an Argo will drive you insane. On my last (only!) ride in 2019 I wound up a dozen odd miles from my truck as the sun was setting. I zipped home doing probably 45 mph. In an Argo I’d plod home much slower… or maybe just stop there and build a cabin. I suspect this is self-correcting, you’re not likely to get ridiculously far from your plans in a device that can’t go ridiculously fast in the first place. It’s definitely a relative thing. If ATVs didn’t exist, an Argo wouldn’t feel slow. If an Argo is out among ATVs it’s going to seem slower than it really is.

The second disadvantage is this. The damn thing is so good at crawling over stuff you tend to go find shit to “challenge it”. This could lead to issues.

And it did… more soon.

In case you’re sane, and therefore don’t obsess over strange Canadian amphibious ATV-like conveyances, you’ve probably never heard of an Argo. My words scarcely do justice to these weird, ugly, awesome, funky, expensive, crude, critters. Here are a few photos I found randomly scattered about the ‘net.

1. This is what the base mode, no frills, version looks like. Except they’re usually a shitty olive drab color. You’ll drop ten bills on one faster than you can say “why doesn’t it have a winch?” (Note: I only pay attention to 6×6 Argos. Most are 8×8, which is definitely cooler but completely out of my league.)
2. This is the same basic machine with proper outfitting and spiffy but unnecessary camo. They will rake you over the coals for this option set! Such minor details as a proper seat-back and a winch launch the price upwards mercilessly. That said, it definitely changes the appearance from “mechanized beer cooler” to “tricked out epic exploratory craft”. Also, I travel solo and me owning anything without a winch is just asking for trouble. Still no ROPS.
3. Here’s an older base model with tracks. Adding tracks to an Argo is much easier than adding them to an ATV. It’ll set you back maybe a couple grand, which is a fraction of the cost of tracks on an ATV. Installation is fairly easy and removal is equally easy. Tracks on an ATV, as awesome as they are, make me nervous. They have more moving parts than the Space Shuttle and are chock full of expensive delicate shit that will break when your ass is in the hinterland. Argo tracks are just as dumb and logical as you see here. I didn’t get to test it but they’re said to float over snow like a slow unstoppable snowmobile. Big selling point there. If you know (on day one) that you’ve got need for and funds to buy tracks… you might be well advised to start with an Argo. It might be cheaper than throwing money at an ATV which just wasn’t meant for tracks at its inception.
4. A random shot of an Argo’s engine compartment. The engine is exactly unlike any normal ATV. That said, I see now they don’t really need any more power.
5. Yes they are amphibious. Like drive it in a damn lake level amphibious! I tested it and it’s fuckin’ amazing! That said, the folks in this photo have got to be actors. No real humans have ever been dressed this identically for an actual outing in mud and water. Also, a helmet might be legally required or keep your noggin warm but I doubt you’ll ever go fast enough in an Argo to need impact resistance. YMMV but these things aren’t speedy roll over risks like an ATV.

[Warning: Argos are weird machines that attract loons like me and inspire fierce loyalty among their owners. I risk their ire. I set out to test one in my own whackdoodle manner, for fun. In our modern era, people form up in teams and if I bitch about anything from Pepsi to the Pope it’s likely to make people of that particular team lose their shit. If you love Argos so much you can’t take a joke, wisely go somewhere else before you get all bent up about an irrelevant blogger. Or at least read all the way to the end of the story before getting all emotive in the comments. I aim to make people laugh, not convert them to a religion or sell them a machine. As always, I’m just me and my opinion should matter to nobody.]

At the dealership I strode through the door like a man who’s got a plan. “I’d like to see your cheapest, smallest Argo.”

The salesdrone was like “Really?”

[Note: Their stock was about 60% side by sides (a.k.a. UTVs), 20% ATVs, 19.9% Snowmobiles, and 0.000001% Argo. Later the salesdrone confided that Argo buyers are an odd market. (Probably explains my attraction to them.) The dealership will move a zillion ATVs and UTVs but go months without anyone so much as glancing at an Argo. Then (apparently randomly) someone will storm in with no warning, drop an assload on a fully kitted out machine without blanching at the huge price, and vanish with it; never to be seen again. His reaction was something like “No shit, today’s the day one of those people came out of the woodwork? Neat!”]

One of the strange things about modern society is that I, a complete stranger, can hold out my hand and say “hand over the keys to an expensive delicate object so that I may abuse it mercilessly” and they comply. Does anyone else think that’s nuts?

In less than five minutes we were out in the freezing cold, sorting keys. I ignored 8 x 8 behemoths on the grounds that I’m not even going to test drive something that costs more than my truck. Also, in certain locations a 6 x 6 is “legally” a UTV while an 8 x 8 “legally” doesn’t exist. YMMV, but I don’t need to hypothetically fret over any hypothetical bullshit trying to hypothetically register an imagined purchase.

BTW: This post isn’t meant to be a technical product review so I didn’t obsess about the details. I think it was a 2019 Frontier 700 with the air cooled 23 HP and the old-style steering… but again, if you’re going to drop that kind of scratch, for God’s sake do proper due diligence. Don’t take advice from a dipshit like me.

I really wanted to hate it. If it sucked, I’d shake off my obsession with Argos and carry on my cheapskate lifestyle in happy, smug, complacency. (I also thought if it blew my socks off, I’d have to shift from “obsessed” mode to “saving money for an inevitable purchase” mode.)

At first, the Argo did everything it could to turn me off.

There is absolutely no way to sugar coat it, the fit and finish of an Argo is repulsive. Our world has alloys, carbon fiber, sexy paint jobs, groovy electronics, and all sorts of material sciences. Yet an Argo looks like a factory in 1970 took a shit in the parking lot. It’s ugly to start with (for obvious design reasons) but the color and surface feel is like an infant just puked strained peas into a plastic injection molding press. The bench seat looks like someone stapled upholstery to a plank. The rollover protection system is nonexistent. The engine is an air-cooled upright block that looks like it came from a lawnmower. In fact, the engine compartment of an Argo looks like someone bought a generic engine from Northern Tool, bolted it into a small chest freezer, and put a grill on the side to vent air.

I’m not done yet! I was aware the “tub” was basically a big green plastic (!?!) boat… but the interior’s plastic (!?!) was nasty. Much worse than I expected. There are certain kinds of plastic that don’t like to be in a straight line… it tends to warp. The firewall between the engine and the driver was warped and ugly and only pinned in place with little thumbscrews that weren’t doing the job. Three bucks for stainless steel wingbolts at any hardware store would be a world-shattering improvement in appearance (if not function). The floorboard under the driver’s feet was similar material; just a squarish warped cake pan shaped abomination.

On the one hand, I get this. Crude means less shit to break and easy to fix when you break it. However, the cheap plastic cake pan had done nothing but accumulate water which had frozen solid into a 4-inch-thick block of ice. For an aquatic/winter enabled vehicle this seemed unforgivably dumb. Like putting a bucket in a snowdrift and then wondering why your bucket is now an ice cube.

I tried to toss the ice out but I couldn’t get a good grip. For the entirety of my test drive my feet were sliding around on thick ice! (In case you’re wondering, it was cold.) The salesdrone explained that lots of people just use a powerdrill to punch a hole in the cake pan. Then the water could run into the tub’s bottom and hopefully out the drain plugs (and not freezing the chains into a block). I inspected the drain plugs. More shitty looking materials. I assume they work but they looked like something you’d get from the toy isle in Dollar General. The cargo area had its own cake pan and it too was filled with a block of ice. In this case the warp was so large that I could get my fingers around it and heft it out. I dumped the huge chunk of ice on the pavement and put the cake pan back. It didn’t fit snugly. Where I expected a Tupperwear fit I got a half inch of play.

One thing I did note was the plastic (or whatever it was) was very thick. It seemed like 3/16” or more. Nor did it seem brittle in the cold. Just ugly, filled with ice, loosely fitting, and warped.

Is much as I was appalled by cheap, ill fitting, plastic shit I did like the crude design. With the cake pan removed you can see the drivetrain both left and right. In case you didn’t know, the drivetrain of an Argo is a big ass chain. One chain on the left. One chain on the right. Sprockets for each of the six tires. You could access this stuff to service it practically while driving it. It looked like the kind of machine you could service with a hammer and if you really wanted you could probably hit it with a rock.

It doesn’t reflect poorly on the machine, but the battery was dead. It didn’t start. While fiddling with it, the salesdrone flipped up the bench seat. I liked the storage underneath but it reminded me the bench seat was not much more advanced than a picnic table.

He hooked up a jumper and soon the little beast coughed to life. I have PTSD over all the dead lawnmowers that I’ve had to restart and this was basically the same affair.

Lamely, the gas tank is pretty much the same white plastic box that you’ll find in any riding lawnmower but as a ferocious counterpoint it was huge. That’s an impressive feature… a big fat box basically the entire width of the seat probably carried a few days’ worth of riding fuel; maybe more. Eat your heart out modern ATVs!

Warming up amid a glorious array of ATVs, the little “lawnmower like” engine just seemed sad. However, when I rode it, the beast had all the juice it needs. In fact, a hyped-up, turbocharged, fuel injected wonder motor would just be more shit to break. The slow and simple Argo just doesn’t need that kind of power. The Argo company very wisely installed enough engine to get the job done and no more.

Also, it ‘aint quiet but it’s not loud either. Compared to some of the hot-rodded ATVs and many snowmobiles which can shriek like a banshee… it’s pretty much a low rumble. I’d love to see them capitalize on this. They could make it uber quiet and that would be awesome. That said, the fit and finish of soundproofing or an elaborate muffler is worlds away from this farm implement of a vehicle.

Once it was started, the sales drone fled. He was freezing in the cold. He waved vaguely in a random direction and gave me virtually no advice on how to find the ATV trail or where to go.

Stay tuned… it’s just getting interesting.