The Waterfall Trail: From the Back Seat

Dateline: Backwatersville, Pa.

Best line of the whole trip was uttered by his techno-wizardship himself, Evan Silverman, Membership Chair:

"Hey, this town is really happening. They got a tire shop with Jeeps, and three auto-parts stores. I think I wanna move here."

Once again Big Guy dragged me off the big comfy bed at home, this time in the middle of my afternoon nap. We headed out to the clean country, getting out to our sleeping place near what Big Guy kept calling Hazleton. Two or three times we had to get into this little room with a sliding wall, and the floor would move. Scared the you-know-what outa me! Wall would slide open and we'd be somewhere else. As much as the Jeep moves, I'd rather be there than in one of those little moving rooms again.

Then we're just getting to sleep and a jangling woke us (Big Guy) up (I don't pay attention to that thing). Soon an intruder tried to get into our space so I leaped up to protect us, and Jay "Wrecker " Reed came in. I know him, he's the one who is always dropping pieces of his truck on the trail. I usually like to find a good stout tree trunk to get behind when he comes up a hill, because you can never tell just how far the pieces will fly when they detach from his little blue toy . . . ota.

In the morning, after stopping for stuff, I smelled bread, we headed back down the highway, finally twisting down to a place where all the trucks had gathered so their men could get something to eat. I can usually eat with the best of them, but that stuff was na-asty. One sniff told me that it wasn't fit for a dog to eat . . . hey, wait a minute.

My apologies to little Lucy, I realize I had to get a little nasty with you, but well, you can't jump up and play with Big Guy without my permission, and I can't romp with you like a puppy. After all, we middle-aged hounds have to keep our dignity, you know. Feel free to bring Ted along again, I'll try to be nicer, as long as you remember your place.

As for the trail? Well, I spent a lot of time with either my butt-end jammed against the equipment boxes or my nose against the back of Big Guy's seat.There were a couple of pretty steep hills in there. I know Big Guy was very pleased with the new additions to his Cherokee (4.56 gears, locked rear diff; another victim of the dreaded disease of modificititis) and our ride was a lot easier with the newly buffed up Cherokee. (All hail Evan the techno-wizard who spent sleepless nights of worry and cogitation in solving "The Riddle of the Screaming Gears")

Mikey Ciaio demonstrated what happens when you put your Jeep on steroids.His over-bulked steering system buckled under the strain of its own power, and as he and the Techno-wizard reinforced his tie-rod, we all got to spend a nice long lunch in the warm Spring sunshine. I know I was fed a lot of good meat out of the back of big Eric's truck, so I thank you all there, and I shared my beef jerky with Lucy. She still just wanted to romp like a puppy. Kids, they just don't understand.

Wrecker Reed didn't disappoint either, but he only broke one axle. Lucky for him there was a herd of toyotas on the trail. Legend has it that when one toyota gets injured the others gather around and hold it up, support it until it can get repaired . . . or dies. Then they scavenge it for parts. Weird breed.

Don't want to leave Big Guy out. Trying to climb a tough little stream crossing his Jeep went lame, and they had to change one of the feet. I heard the terms "cut a sidewall" or something like that. All I know is it didn't interfere with me sleeping or eating, and that's ok.

We finally rolled on out of the woods, where Evan, Mikey and the Big Grand-daddy-guy made a pile of Jeeps. We aired up and rode on into Backwatersville, where I took a nap. When Big Guy came back he had some tasty bones for me (thanks to you all) and we headed on down the highway. The toytotas herded together and the rest of us shot on home with only one stop for coffee and apple pie, or crumb-cake. I had gas from the beef jerky, and so perfumed the Cherokee all the way home. All in all another good day of wheeling. So, until next time, remember, Keep all four paws on the ground and your furry side up.

Bark R. Woof is driven to the trail by Doug Abrams, who claims to be annoyed by the fur in his keyboard.