“This is how I found them!” Gino gleefully yelled to Brian after he had come upon Sally and I trying to fix the quandry we’d gotten ourselves into on our quads deep in the expansive sand dunes of the Oregon coast.
He’d crested a dune and happened upon us not knowing what the hell we needed to do to get back on the road. We were eager to be strong independent women able to manage any adversity. We openly mocked the dune princesses who were content to let others solve their problems for them. But here we were, stuck with the a proverbial pickle jar that we could not open.
Gino and Brian thought it was hilarious. Sally and I not so much. But it didn’t stop us.
My family got into quad riding because my father in law. The boys were little, 4 ish and 6 ish, when the riding started. To this day, they will still call him 4 wheeler grandpa.
Sally, Gino, and their boys were also in to this hobby, and that made for the perfect recipe for some truly incredible trips. The first trips, I would watch and maybe take a solo turn on some hunting 4 wheeler that had been brought along. But then this one time, I took a ride in to Eureka from Somoa with my parents with the intent of buying a sweatshirt.
But there she was, a shiny new Suzuki Z 400. “It can’t hurt to take it for a test drive,” I lied to myself.
In the gravel of the alley behind the dealership, I saddled up. I killed the machine initially. Then, me and unexpected pep made a mess of the pebble. I grinned manically as I lost, then regained control of the bike, fishtailing down that alley. I was hooked. We bought it. And all the gear. ALL! Obviously, the Paolis gave me much deserved shit when we got back to camp. “Buying a sweatshirt, huh?”
For the next several years, we spent any chance we could getting the family to the dunes to ride. Sally and I would capitalize on the C minus (Coors Light) effect to insure that the men would sleep in later than us. We would get up before light and sneak out of camp leaving them in charge of the brood of boys. The feeling of riding pristine dunes is indescribable (at least by me). The machines have the go so that it feels like all it takes is to point your goggled and helmeted face in a direction and suddenly you’re there. Exhilarating!
I mostly chased Sally with her pony tail whipping behind her in the breeze she created. Maybe not surprisingly, I also ran into Sally when I wasn’t paying attention. Ironically, this crash resulted in breaking the part of my quad that was the home for the “Girls Kick Ass” sticker. I wish I was lying.
After the mom role would kick in, we would toddle around with the boys while the men did men things like racing random strangers after not a word of conversation but with just a look and a nod. Or seeing how far they could jump. Or maybe seeing what they could break.
Thankfully the injuries incurred were all recoverable; but we learned a lot about Grandma’s level of sympathy for 4 Wheeler Grandpa’s shenanigans. He rolled slowly up to the camp following my dad holding his arm in the universal position of “I just broke my collar bone.” She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t ask him anything. She immediately turned to Brian and said “I’m not driving the truck home.” Off to the Eureka hospital they went, where it was learned the collar bone was indeed broken.
I too had my share of wipeouts, but since I’m such a chicken they were mostly low speed. I learned that if you’re thinking it’s a good idea to put the bike in neutral so you can push it UP the dune out of it’s mess; you’d be wrong like I was. That was the first time I was run over stem to stern. The next time was when I landed poorly on a jump, endo’d, got sucked right under my quad. I’ve also rolled my quad down a dune. Thankfully (*eyeroll) there was a big crowd present so I was able to hear a collective gasp. Also thankfully, this was pre-smart phones. Thank God for well engineered safety equipment.
We stayed with it a while, upgrading the boy’s ride and such, but things in life got busy. The dunes aren’t close and getting there took a lot. Eventually we got rid of my bike and Brian’s go-fast bike. Then the kids’ machines got the axe. But no one can take the memories. Rides, food, stories, and watching the boys grow. Now the next generation has got back in the game. Daniel bought a beautiful quad and even though he’s been the worldy man of education, he’s still managed to get that bike to many places. He also knows how to pay a speeding ticket in Nevada now, but that’s another story.
Thanks for reading!
Bifocals and Barbells 