In Search of Open Water

Years ago, a friend, let’s call him JD, and I used to hunt at every opportunity. We were young, so getting up at 4:00AM after drinking and chasing girls until midnight was not a problem. We just got up, loaded up and went.

I remember one year we had tons of snow. I woke up in my apartment at Avondale Armpits and looked out at about 6 inches of fresh white fluff. My first thought was “Damn, we’re gonna have to drive really far south to find open water”.

JD showed up right on time, and we headed out. JD had an old Jeep Commando. It was a Jeep 4 wheel drive thing. It was a bare bones hunting machine. The heater worked occasionally, and the AM radio, when you could hear it over the roar of the tires, was the very best technology available circa 1969. By virtue of it’s 4×4 configuration, we were undaunted by the snow. It just wasn’t a factor to us. We headed south with Duke the dog, two dozen decoys, and a case and a half of the generic beer. We were hunting ducks.

We took Highway 1 south toward Harrisburg. There were no tracks in the snow on the road. We were the first. Our headlights pierced the darkness and the brightness of the snow gave a sureal feeling to it all. We both were warm and comfortable in the Jeep. We had not yet made it to the liquor stores when our adventure began. We had the Commando in four wheel drive and we were going about 50 miles an hour down the snow covered highway when we began to learn about driving on snow.

It began when the back end of the jeep got just a little squirrely. JD gingerly handed me his beer, and used both hands to gently bring the jeep back under control. JD smiled at me and said “This thing is amazing.” We sped up a little to further take advantage of the amazing snow handling characteristics of a 1969 Jeep Commando. I gave JD his beer back.

We were talking about where we might find open water when it happened again. The back end got just a little squirrely. Again, JD quickly handed me his beer, and he carefully and very expertly brought the Commando back under control. Again he commented about the incredible abilities of the Commando. Feeling ever more confident, we sped up some more. I gave JD a fresh beer.

Driving an old Jeep Commando at 65 miles an hour through six inches of virgin snow and the pre-dawn darkness of the Arkansas ricelands is an exhilarating experience. It was still snowing heavily, but there was little wind. I could just make out the Greenfield Seed Company through the wall of snow as we navigated a gentle bend in the highway. I noticed that at 65 miles an hour on snow, the feeling you get from the vehicle is very similar to the feeling you get when you are running 50 miles an hour on gravel. It’s a light, almost loose feeling the vehicle has.

The back end began to get squirrely again. For the third time and this time with a little bit of urgency, JD handed me his beer. I should mention a couple of significant design features of the 1969 Jeep Commando. First, it had very springy, utilitarian, low backed, bucket seats. These seats were designed to last a lifetime of mud, water and other abuse. They were covered in a tough vinyl, and were very, very springy. They were almost trampoline like. Second, I don’t think the thing even had seat belts. I wouldn’t know for sure because in those days, I didn’t use them so I hadn’t even bothered to look. If they were there, we weren’t wearing them. Because the Commando was a utilitarian vehicle, the roof of the thing featured no headliner. It was just metal. The roof was in fact designed to be removable by unbolting it from the body. Finally, as the Commando was designed for rough use, the springs in the thing were very stiff, as in ‘catapult’ stiff.

So, as I said, the back end was started getting squirrelly again, and JD handed me his beer. I had his beer in my left hand and my beer in my right hand. Very gently, JD began to counteract the squirrellieness of the Commando. The squirrellieness continued unabated. He counter-steered more aggressively, but the back end continued to rotate at an increasing rate of speed counterclockwise. He counter-steered more, but the rotation continued. He got off the gas, and the back end of the Commando passed us on the right. We were now going 65 miles an hour in a backward spin down a snow covered highway that featured snow covered frozen ditches on either side. The spin continued and in just a fraction of a second we were facing the right way again, but it was just for a second. The spin continued. While in the uncontrolled spin, the Commando had begun veering toward the ditch on the right. After achieving an astonishing rate of spin, we entered the downhill portion of the ditch. At the bottom of the ditch, breaking through the ices seemed to stabilize us and the spin suddenly stopped. Though that was a good development, we were still going roughly 65 miles an hour backwards down a frozen ditch. JD, his cigarette dangling from his lips, had both hands glued to the steering wheel, and I was doing my best not to spill the beer.

Perhaps the only thing worse than a spinning, backwards, pre-dawn excursion through a frozen, snow covered ditch at 65 miles an hour is emerging from said ditch backwards at 65 miles an hour. The gentle slope of the ditches on Highway 1 South just past the Greenfield Seed Company will enable a pretty impressive launch of a Jeep Commando a la Evel Kneivil. I do not know how high we went in the air, but I do know how far we went through the air. Without touching the snow, let’s just say that we didn’t beat the Wright Brothers distance for their first flight, but I think that it can be said that we may have been able to clear a bus or two.

The Wright Brothers did not however out perform us on landing and we way, way, way outperformed Kneivel. The Wrights skidded to a halt in the sand at Kill Devil Hills. Kneivel crashed the bike and broke a lot of bones. We, on the other hand, nailed a four point landing while still traveling backwards at a very high rate of speed. Remember the stiff springs I mentioned that the Commando had, they really came into play because we bounded several times as we spun and skidded to a halt on the frozen field. Inside the Commando, JD and I learned some life lessons.

First, we learned that when you are in a Jeep Commando and it is possible that the ride might get rough, you should remove your ball cap as a precaution. In the event that you are being bounced rapidly and repeatedly between the roof and the very trampoline-like seat, that little button on the top of the cap will not be pounded into your skull. The lump that will result from that damn button will be commented on by every barber you visit for decades. Secondly, after the landing is complete and the bouncing stops, there will be very little beer left in the beer cans. Finally, the dog will not enjoy any of this.

I don’t remember if we ever actually hunted that day.

I’ll hold your beer.