"How long has it been since we had a TRS-sponsored event?" I asked myself the morning I saw that Jim Oaks had posted a couple of events for the upcoming year. Let's see; I remember Eric high centering on a dirt mound and replacing my heater blower with snow swirling around my ears. And wasn't it when Jim Oaks and I both slammed out the same taillight on the same rock going up Twister? The time he made it in his newly built TRS-2 and I flopped and had to winch myself out? That would have been the '05 Snowball, right? Because the '04 Snowball was when we spent half the night winching and we got smarter for the next one. So what about after the Snowball? When was it that we were all at Attica with a whole row of straight-axled Rangers where Jim sent a hub from TRS-1 sailing out over the pond and Redriverranger climbed a tree going up the center of that ledge on the Pink trails? Was that Fall '04? I can't remember. Did we even do a Spring Round-Up in '05? I know there was a TrailDrive '05, but I don't think it was that well attended.  So I think that with one thing and another we have gone a year without a TRS hosted event.

I recently suffered a computer failure and had to wipe out my hard drive. In the process of putting it all back together again, I came across my pictures from my first TRS event--the Fall 2002 Round-Up at Sparkz place in Hardshell, Kentucky. Back then my truck was stock, Chris (97_4x4) had only a body lift and 33" tires; Casey (Redriverranger) still had an Early Bronco D44, a standard-shift and a sheet metal bed; PT_Ranger had his Bronco but it wouldn't get up the hill into the place; and Chris (BigTruckin90) was still dreaming of owning a 4x4 and taking pictures. None of us knew each other except from the web, yet we spent all day in the cold and rain chopping brush and clearing trails. After it was done I wrote an article about the universal language of the off road enthusiast--how no matter where you are from or who you are in 'real life', you can get along with 'us' because we all belong to the same tribe--at least for a day.  So a few times a year we get together to howl at the twisted sheet metal, help pick up the shattered bits and rub Super Swampers.

 

It isn't easy to get away. We get people to watch our pets and kids; we dig for change to fuel the truck for the haul; we borrow parts and feel the icy bite of the December wind down the back of our torn cover-alls while working late to get the rig ready. Even up to the last minute the excuses roll around in our heads--why not just crack a beer on Thursday night and say our this is slipping or our that is slopped? The only thing that keeps us going is the thought of crunching over the snow-covered tracks at Wellsville with the ice lining the branches like lace and exhausts billowing steam in the cold air. Everyone is walking around in their old cover-alls getting reacquainted and checking out each other's new mods. Then we are off, following each other down the trails; piling out to watch each other try stuff; taking pictures; hooking up straps; reseating tires; banging on starter solenoids; setting things back up on the wheels and the pain of getting ready is long forgotten. Then we are in the roadhouse throwing food and laughing about this and that and looking forward to sitting down with a well-deserved six-pack back at the hotel to upload pictures via the wireless. Or standing in the parking lot with the wind twisting the snow up around your face trying to tear off a piece of frozen electrical tape with stiff fingers.

If you speak our language; if the cold and the ice and the inconvenience and the food at the Roadhouse and the women at the Ice House hold no fear for you, I'll see you there.  ~TRS