Turkey
Day Weekend
Forget the turkey! Grab a few of your favorite 30 packs, a couple dump cans
of high-test, and hit the road. It’s time for the holiest of duner holidays,
Thanksgiving weekend. Pretend you don’t give a rat’s ass about
football (unless you’re lucky enough to have a working TV in your rig)
because we’re going for a ride.
Undoubtedly there will be many who sit around on their couches scratching themselves
and stuffing their faces over the upcoming holiday. But what happens after
that? The ones that aren’t quite hardcore but still have their priorities
straight will go outside, fire up the rig, and start the trek out to the dunes.
The slackers will wait until Friday morning, by which time they’ll pull
into a dusty, crowded mess we lovingly call Dune Buggy Flats and search out
their buddies in vain for hours. I’ll be sitting on top of a dune, drinking
a brew, ripping a bowl, and laughing at you.
That we as Americans have a holiday dedicated to the mass consumption of food
never ceases to amaze me. I’m a fatass naturally, and I’m a fatass
the other 364 days of the year, too. Thanksgiving to me is about a different
form of gluttony. It’s one of the few times working stiffs like me can
actually pull off four full, uninterrupted days of duning in a row. It must
be because all of my coworkers are too busy sitting around still trying to
stuff two-day-old turkey between their jaws. Or they’re out riding with
me.
Quit reading this. Plan, shop, pack, ditch out of another one of those lame
ass family gatherings, whatever you gotta do. It’s almost time to go…
- DAVe
A first day in the desert. 10/31/04
I‚d say it was about 6:15 Friday evening, when we crossed over. You could
feel the electricity. There wasn‚t a line, which was surprising, considering
we were arriving at the peak of travel. You could smell it instantly; the smell
of alcohol burning Banshees, super bikes, Quadzillas and tricked out buggies,
tasting the sand (for many of them) for the first time in 6 long months. That
was what it took to make me laugh as if I were seeing joy. I'd just completed
a year and a half long project. My Old School sand buggy. I was anxious to try
it out for the first time on my beloved dunes. I had spoken with a friend of
mine, Joe, who says „we got a few friends coming out with us, as I ask
for the directions to the campsite. He comes up to the pay booth and leads my
brood (my girl, our 4 daughters and two old Chevy trucks, toting five quads and
a buggy) to the place we‚ll be spending the
weekend.
You could sense the excitement of everyone around us, music, fireworks, bright
lights and flashy powertoys built for one purpose to haul bunns in the sand!
The spot he took us to surprised me. I‚m a modest desert go-er. I build
what my girls affectionately call, a tent city and stick to the basics; food,
fire, shelter and fuel. This was not the case with the rest of our incredibly
cool and fun new group. I pulled into and around a half acre circle, adorned
with nine gorgeous shiny diesel pushers, all of them trolleying good sized toyboxes.
How cool is that! Interspersed with the coaches were six or seven travel trailers
and double and triple axle fifth-wheels, all looking very regal, holding a prominent
spot for me and my family. It was all very shiny and new looking from my perspective,
and truly an impressive assortment of vehicles stored within the ad-perfect scene.
I thought to myself∑ "This should be a fun trip."
Friday night pretty much went without a hitch, as far as setting up went. After
upgrading and perfecting the procedure Baby, I got it Doowwwn. :-p All the girls
set up their tents while I constructed a screen-house kitchen to begin the very
manly task of Outdoor Cooking,,,ing,,,ing,,,ing! with which I somehow managed
to please my voracious family each and every time. It‚s also a cool place
for the adults to hang out and catch up and chat while cooking the Friday feast.
I like a healthy camp fire. Fire is one of those „Must Have‰s that
you need to accommodate for. Personally, I subscribe to the belief that when
you ‚re in the desert, more is better! So we get the quads off the truck
and the buggy off the trailer. Now it‚s time to dump the cord of wood I
brought with me (did I mention it was a flat bed dump truck?) next to the proposed
fire hole. Now we're ready. The first night ride was ripe with fun and ntertainment.
Not only was the new hand built buggy‚s first run flawless, but there seemed
to be a newfound long lost feeling of utter peace on the sand. It totally sounds
corny as hell, but it‚s the truth. I swear! We went a little farther into
the dunes than I wanted to, but being with the rest of the buggies and quads,
I was a little more secure about should something go wrong with the little old
school sand car. It DIDN‚T! Abso-freakin‚-lutely flawless. This little
car goes GOOD! Chock one up to patience and perseverance I guess I was now ready
for Saturday!
What a perfect morning. It was SO time to ride! We ate a quick breakfast, fueled
and started the toys and broke out the gear. Now for today kids, Daddy‚s
going to teach you to climb a hill. Patton! The 12 year old we call„ Bug
squeals with excitement, blurts out I will be the QUEEN of the hill! and sparked
a feud with her 14 year old sister who had to, ride in the buggy. Bug got a little
more than 1/2 way up that big ol‚ hill on the spiderbike (a Suzuki 230,
jetted piped, with a spider web seat) a couple of times. I think next trip to
Gordons, she just may get to be the princess of the hill after all. Home for
lunch. Rats! Two of the six buggies total, are down. I hate it when that happens.
Not mine! I gotta go shoot me some bowls! People say that there are better dunes
to ride on. Where?!! It's a spot where I can bring my girls, ride on the buttery
soft sand dunes, play and be a kid again, all with the confidence that at least
today my kids will remember this day. They'll remember the fun. I think to myself,
as I turn around and see them all racing through the same path, cut by a cool
little old school sandhopper, sensei-ing my little troop of desert divas through
the ever flowing, ever-changing, ever alive Gordon's Well sand dunes, Does it
get any better than this? Let's go girls Let's go ride to Test!
By the way anyone got a can of carb. cleaner?
- J
The
1st Trip...
Walking into the garage, you awake an old friend
from its summer sleep. The smell of 2 stroke oil and
exhaust permeate the room in a last minute, late night
tuning session, as greasy hands fumble with carburetor
jets and new plugs. Used gear oil spatters the floor
from the previous season as the slight singing of air
hisses from your compressor in the background. Sockets
and air tools litter the ground in an almost chaotic
order as you wash free the desert from your K&N.
It seems it was just the other day that you stood in
camp with nothing but the fire to illuminate you as the
art of premixing your overpriced C-12 and Yamalube was
performed. Nervousness and excitement coupled with extreme
exhaustion fill you as you sit on your bike and rev the
engine with the anticipation of your next mission to
the dunes, hoping once again to evade the evil ‘Witcheye’ and
near death collision with a drunken idiot pulling wheelies
sideways up Test at night in his 8 cylinder, nitrous
oxide powered, Northstar engine with twenty four inches
of travel and about $5,000 worth of chrome. Yes kiddies,
its here!! The best part of the year is about to begin
as thousands of desert enthusiasts flock to the infamous
Imperial Valley. Long days and late nights of cheap beer,
Nathan’s hotdogs, wrestling matches, making gas
bombs out of used beer bottles, an occasional seized
top end here and new clutch basket there, some idiot
that flies by your camp at full throttle dusting everyone
(ya, you know who you are), climbing into a gritty, smelly
sleeping bag and waking up with a splitting hangover
just so you can crack another beer at 10:00 to kill the
pain, the only shower you’ll probably get in 4
days other than sweat – the canal, the afternoon
ride to Patton’s with some new guy in the group
that talks a big game at camp only to lag behind and
hold up everybody, flying through whoops as you race
the Hill and your leg cramps up from throwing so many
leg kicks at the competition, the Coors Light break atop
some nameless peak as you make fun of your buddy that
did it with the ‘fat chick’, the classic
mid 40’s fella complete with mullet and cheesy
T-shirt who’s stuck in the 70’s blastin ‘Schools
out for Summer’ all while cruising in his rusted
out buggy with VW engine and bad suspension, guys launching
the burm at the drags, and, well, some guys just launching
(off their bikes that is), big surgically altered perfect
boobs bouncing in golf carts that are fast enough to
drive on the freeway, ridiculous $200,000 trucks with
neon and custom paint jobs, the flicker of about 100,000
lights dancing in about 1,000,000 different colors in
the distance (hey I thought the blinking red light was
our camp), some idiot that decides to take 30 palettes
doused in 10 gallons of old race gas and call it his
campfire, breathing pure dust and smoke as you try no
to get hit by the small freeway at Test, more boobs (and
maybe a brass strip pole on the back of a Chevy with
two blonds), about 50 million Park Rangers, guys digging
trenches and lighting them on fire as you hope to not
get stuck and be buried in sand, the long ride back to
camp where you fight off your buddies for that last burger
or maybe a serving of grannies famous baked beans, more
beer, falling asleep in the chair by the fire only to
be tackled to the ground by a stinky sweaty buddy as
the other guys stand around and laugh, and last but not
least… that familiar crusty sleeping bag that you’ll
be calling bed for the next three days as you proceed
to get four hours of sleep cause the kid next to your
camp decides he wants to take about 150 laps in the burm
track right outside your truck… ahhh, its desert
time!  -Short
story by Orion
President's
day weekend. `04
Is it just me or was it crowded out there this
last weekend? Wow! Let me just say Gordons is starting
to rival our big motha' to the North. Don't get me wrong
I'm not complaining. I just sat at the drags looking
down on the buggy flats to see all the motorhomes, trailers,
trucks, cars and buggies. It's almost mind boggling to
think how much money is sitting out there.
Give
it up to our fore fathers. Without their magnificent
foresight and the will to struggle through the hardships
of the time we all wouldn't be enjoying ourselves as
much as we do. We all enjoy the freedom of speech,
the freedom of our own personal opinions and have the
right to enjoy everything that this great country offers.
That means we have part ownership in the dunes, we
all share the responsibilty of helping someone when
they are in trouble and the effort to keep it clean.
Thank
all these great men when you get to enjoy the times
we have together out in the desert with family and
friends.
2004
is Just Around the Corner...
A new year is almost upon
us and things have definitely changed. But as people
gripe and complain about change, other things have
stayed relatively the same. People who have been
going to the desert for years now have seen the
fads come and go. They have seen the activity level
increase as well as the law enforcement. We have
all seen the introduction of the beloved "Adventure
Pass" and have already seen the fees triple
for that. We've seen technology change the way
our "toys" perform while bringing our
sport to new levels. We've seen how a little bit
of effort cleaning up after yourself can make up
for years of neglect. While change affects us all,
both in ways that are good and bad, there will
always be the things we can't change or have no
reason too.
What
makes us all go to the this barren wasteland? What
drives thousands of people to an area of where most
people seem to find no use for? Why do we spend countless
hours wrenching, tweaking, polishing and finalizing
a piece of motorized equipment just so we can beat
it up and do the whole process over again? We do it,
because anyone who has ever kicked over a bike, quad
or started an offroad vehicle knows that tearing around
a dune with the throttle wide open has no equal. Just
as surfers crave that perfect wave or a skiier waits
for those fresh tracks, a dune rider burns inside to
ride his steel steade around that huge bowl.
With
a subtle blow the winds, the dunes reset themselves
for another wild and crazy weekend. Have fun this coming
New Years, be safe and we'll see you out there!!!!
Remember
the dunes are waiting...
Get
Ready for Thanksgiving 2003!!!!
Thanksgiving
is upon us and if you stand there long enough you can
almost smell the VP vapors in the air. As I drive around
town, you can feel the energy and excitement as people
get ready for the annual trip to the desert. People
rushing to buy beer, food, gather wood, load the trailer,
buy that last minute part to get your bike running
or atleast JB welding that crack because the moto shop
didn't get your part in on time. Whatever you're doing,
it's always last minute and there's always that mad
dash to get it done before the stores close early.
If
there is ever a time to rig that bike, or patch that
flat, this is the time to do it. Thanksgiving weekend
is probably the biggest weekend to be at the desert.
You'll see everything from the gnarliest banshees attacking
the hill to the most detailed airbrush job on a long-travel,
Cadillac NorthStar buggy. You want eyecandy? You better
be out here!
The
GordonsWell.com crew remind you to have fun but be
safe! We'll be posting photos of this weekend in our "Media" section.
Look for that soon.
Remember
the dunes are waiting... |
