Took my '93 Ranger, full of brush, to the "stump dump," one day. The cashier told me where to take the load to dump it, but there was a communication break down and I went down the wrong path. Mud, buried brush, wood chips, logs...but mostly mud....deep mud.....around a corner, though a ditch, up a hill, four-by-four locked and loaded, she climbed on, mud up to the axles, S#$@ flying everywhere...and I mean EVERYWHERE.....'till finally, I reached the top. I looked around, seeing that no one had dropped fresh brush here in months and wondered how the hell I was going to get back down. I heard the sound of a straining diesel, and around the corner comes an articulating front end loader, with ITS five-foot diameter tires spinning and flinging crap everywhere. It stopped and the cab opened. "I don't know how the hell you got here and I don't know how the hell your gonna get out, but you ain't supposed to be here!" The implication was, "you moron." The door slammed shut, the machine turned around and churned back down the hill. I had no choice. I got back in the Ranger, dropped it in drive, put the pedal down and had at it again. She made it back down on her own. That was years ago, now; and I am literally STILL picking crap out of the frame and suspension from that day. It was then that I knew this was SOME kinda FOMOCO.