Showing posts with label Rock Zombie Outlaws. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rock Zombie Outlaws. Show all posts

Sunday, August 2, 2009

RZO Summerfest

Last weekend RCC and I attended the Rock Zombie Outlaws' Summerfest, sadly the last one to be held at its current location near Arapahoe Road and Parker in the Denver area. In February, we attended RZO's Winterfest with Tinkerbell, RCC's full-sized Chevy rock-crawler, whose transmission seized up just ten minutes off the truck. This time we opted to just take the Jeep and camp overnight.



Since the Jeep is completely stock - he hasn't modified it at all yet - our options were limited as far as obstacles we could attack, but we found a few and had a good time on them. And they say it's not a good day unless you get stuck, which we did beautifully. We had been driving around the property, tackling the obstacles that were doable in the Jeep, and found a creek crossing that looked like it might be tougher than some others we'd done, but still was doable. So off we went, down the slight hill, splashing across the creek, and powering up...powering up...shit...powering ourselves right into the sandy hill across the creek. The sand had looked fairly stable from the opposite side of the creek, but once we hit it, we just buried ourselves. Deep. RCC did such a great job of attempting to power up the hill he buried the front axle in the sand.


We were lucky that another driver saw us and offered to tow us out with his full-sized Chevy Blazer. The problem was that we got bogged down at the first part of a two-part rise; there was an initial hill - where we got stuck - followed by a slight flat space and another hill. The truck hooked us up, but we were so stuck that he couldn't budge us while also trying to tackle the second hill.
We lucked out a second time and another truck who saw our predicament offered to hook onto the Chevy and pull us out in tandem. How's that for being stuck? Our small stock Jeep took a full-sized Chevy Blazer and a Toyota pick-up with a V8 to tow it out.
I had to laugh at a comment I overheard while the two trucks were hooking us up. One of the drivers looked at the other and said, "Beginners." Certainly I am a beginner, but I wasn't the one driving and if they had realized that the driver they were towing out was the owner of the infamous Tinkerbell - even if they don't know her name, they know her - they would have had a whole lot more to say than just "beginners".
We spent a great deal of the day mostly watching. The Zombie Graveyard is always a popular place to congregate and watch carnage (4-wheeler-speak for breaking big expensive stuff). RCC had told me that he wanted to replace his metal cable on his winch with a nylon one, which is much safer. After watching two nylon winch cables break without any injuries to anyone, I think he's getting nylon for Christmas. The metal cables don't rebound as well (or at all) as the nylon ones and the energy has to be transferred somewhere, which usually means that it whips around uncontrolled taking out anything in its path. The nylon cables just drop to the ground, sparing anyone nearby.
We did watch a scary moment when one of the Zombies got stuck in the Graveyard and three people were rocking him side-to-side, hoping that he'd get a bite somewhere on the rocks and be able to drive himself out. He got a bite, alright, and nearly ran over one of the guys helping him out.



The bad thing is that once the Zombie broke loose, he then hit a rock with his front passenger tire and knocked his tire off the bead, which started a whole new rescue effort involving a Hi-Lift and a borrowed 37" tire.


I also got to see something I'd never seen before - a Jeep Wrangler doing a one-handed handstand. I have no idea how on earth this driver kept from going ass over teakettle, but he managed. I was a little slow on the trigger for the camera, so the picture is just as he's peaked and started to come back down. His only point of contact with the ground is his front driver's side tire; the front passenger hasn't quite touched down on the rock yet.
The day was amazing even with the intermittant thunder, lightening, and rain. Throughout the day, we'd drive by the bonfire site, where they were building a giant man to set aflame. It was fun to watch the progress throughout the day and I couldn't wait for sundown when they were to fire him up.At sundown, however, lighting the Burning Man proved to be a bit of a challenge. We watched one of the Zombies get a ride up to the top in the bucket of a tractor and dump at least ten gallons of gasoline on him. You would think that would be enough, right? The problem was that even the best laid plans go awry and the person who was to light the Burning Man with the flare gun missed.
M.I.S.S.E.D. Missed. With a flare from a flare gun. Missed.
The flare went skipping along the ground, across the area for the bonfire and ended up in a crowd of people. No one was hurt, but a lot of people were laughing. The second shot also missed, going straight up in the air no where near the Not-Burning Man. Third shot - you gessed it - also skittered through the crowd. Finally, someone took the flare gun away from Sir Miss-The-Sixty-Foot-Pile-Of-Logs-In-Front-Of-Him and shot the tinder at the bottom of the Not-Burning Man's feet at point blank range. It took - sort of - briefly - before the rain won out. In the end the Zombies set up a true fire bucket brigade, with one person holding the gas can, filling up keg cups with gasoline, while others threw the gasoline onto the Sort-Of-Burning Man. Sort-Of-Burning Man eventually became Finally-Burning Man and the wait was worth it, despite the rain pounding away again.


An almost-entirely-sleepless night in a leaky tent ensued, thanks to the Party Brigade in the next campsite. About the time the music would quiet down and I'd fall asleep, I'd be woken up again by the drunks changing CDs and the music blaring again. In the few minutes of sleep I did get, I dreamed of using my new shotgun on their stereo. About four a.m. they thought it would be a good idea to load up into their buggies and race up and down the road leading into the campground. At that time, my short-lived dreams changed to shooting out a tire with the shotgun. Up and at 'em bright and early the next morning (really, what choice did we have), we wandered over to the smoldering bonfire. I decided that the white-hot smoldering coals would be perfect for roasting the marshmallows that we didn't roast the night before, so RCC and I found some sticks and had ourselves roasted marshmallows for breakfast. It's good to be a "grown up" and get to have marshmallows for breakfast!

We spend day two mostly watching - there's just so much going on that it's hard to take it all in - before packing up and heading home. I had a blast, even if I wasn't the one getting the Jeep filthy this time, and am more than a little sad that the RZO crew is losing their land because of some stupid political dispute. The Rock Zombie Outlaws are a great group of people who hosted amazing events that brought people together for good, clean (or maybe not really clean) fun. I'm hoping that they will be able to find new property soon and rumor has it, they are looking hard for a new venue.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Wheelin', Horses and Gunpowder Therapy

What a great week!

Wheelin'...I've been working my butt off at work, feeling every ounce of resposibility for getting almost 200 students scheduled correctly, grading done and new classes set up. So I was really, really looking forward to last weekend. RockCrawlinChef and I had been planning for MONTHS to attend the Rock Zombie Outlaw's Winterfest with his truck, Tinkerbell, in Parker, CO. I couldn't wait for a weekend away - I wasn't going to spend one second thinking about work. We loaded up Tink and took her on down to Parker. I've never been rock crawling, but I've been looking forward to it for a long time. RCC did warn me that we wouldn't be doing any actual rock crawling, but four-wheeling (yes, there is a difference), as the obstacles were designed for "normal" four-wheel vehicles, not big girls like Tink. Didn't matter, I was thrilled to be going, to get to ride in Tink "for real" rather than "for pretend" like around the block or at the Christmas Caravan for Kids/Toys for Tots event.

We found our way to the event site, unloaded Miss Bell, climbed up her big 49" tires into her cab and we were off for a lap to get the layout of the land. Miss Bell, for some reason, was not very happy. She kept stalling and being belligerent, but RCC kept coaxing her on. We managed to make one small obstacle - a short slope downhill with a water crossing and back up the other side - when she became even more belligerent, so we turned around to head back to the truck and trailer to figure out what was going on. We powered up the hill leading back to the parking area and RCC decided that he'd check the transmission fluid. Hmmm...not good. She had transmission fluid, but it was obviously burned and was a little low, so RCC topped her off and climbed back up into the cab only to find out that Tinky no backy. Somehow, she'd lost reverse and we could now only go forward. Not a big problem, but Tink's a big girl. Her turning radius is somewhere around a half a mile. Without reverse, we were dead in the water. No wheelin' for us. Ten minutes or so after we unloaded we were done. We loaded Tink back onto the trailer, very thankful that she was stuck in forward not reverse, grabbed the Flip (camcorder) and headed down to the Zombie Graveyard to watch. Despite not being able to participate, I had an amazing time watching everyone attempt the Graveyard, which is a fairly difficult water crossing with loose boulders on each slope to navigate. There was lots of carnage (wheel-speak for tipping over and/or breaking of vehicles) and tons of audience participation. I heard one woman say that she loved the event because you don't even need a vehicle to have a good time. I whole-heartedly agree!

I was disappointed that our weekend away turned out to be a weekend at home afterall, but it felt so wonderful to spend Saturday outside in the sun after being locked up in my office for what felt like weeks on end. I even enjoyed the free dermabrasion from the wind and river silt.

...Horses...
Even though I had a wonderful time on Saturday, I was still feeling a bit stressed out at work and decided to play hookie Tuesday afternoon. Monday, I sent an email to my collegues telling them that I would be unavailable from Tuesday at 1:00pm to Wednesday at 6:30 am. I had no intention of even thinking about work, the students could manage for one afternoon/evening without me, any schedule problems could be handled on Wednesday, I was outta there!

I checked the weather and found that Tuesday was supposed to be almost 70 degrees! In March! Score! I called Mom and Bill to see who wanted to join me for some equine therapy and planned to spend Tuesday afternoon with my baby girl. Turns out Mom had guests checking in, but Bill was in desperate need of equine therapy so we arranged to meet in Lyons at Ida's pasture.

As I drove alongside the pasture, I looked over to find the horses and what do I see but Ida's red truck dragging the field and the entire herd, Mom's grays in the lead, following the truck in circles. Ida was like the freakin' horse Pied Piper. Bill was just a couple of minutes behind me, so I called him and told him to watch as he drove up, but by then the show was over, the horses had decided that no hay was going to fall off the back of the truck and the ground up cow manure blowing in their faces wasn't a whole lot of fun.

Ida saw Bill and me when we walked out to the herd and stopped to chat for a minute. I asked her if she'd seen Estes' picture in Trail Rider Magazine and she told me that she had bought the magazine. It's not often that the horse you raised and trained shows up in a national horse magazine, even if it is just an advertisement for Julie Goodnight. Ida went back to dragging the field and Bill and I set to catching our horses.

Estes gave me a little attitude about being caught, but was fairly easy to catch. She just had to let me know that it was her choice to be caught. Of course, the treat in my pocket and the curry comb in my hand may have helped her decide not to be a poop about being caught. She loves being pampered, especially after her stint as a TV star. I groomed her, scratched all of her itchy places, and pulled chunks of mud from the feathering around her hooves. I think if she was a cat, she would have purred.

The whole time I was grooming her, Bill was trying to catch Ranger, who was being a poop about being caught. Ranger was definitely in "wild horse" mode; he didn't want to be caught, and by God, Bill wasn't going to catch him. Funny how that attitude changed once Bill cut him from the herd and wouldn't let him re-join it. I was long done grooming Estes and had run the curry comb over a couple of the other horses in the herd while we watched Bill walk off Ranger. Doc, one of Ida's younger geldings with a wide white blaze and blue eyes, decided that I was a-okay and groomed my hair for me while Peanut, her big bay gelding, snuffled and helped Doc groom my ponytail.

Ranger finally ceded to Bill and allowed himself to get caught and groomed. Once the halter was on, he was magically transformed into Bill's mild mannered dog.

You know all is right with the world when you're sharing a beautiful, albeit windy, day in the foothills with some of God's best four-legged critters.

...and Gunpowder Therapy...
I went back to work Wednesday absolutely refreshed and ready to go (even though RockCrawlinChef and Digger had spend the night playing not-so-musical bathroom due to an ugly stomach bug). But my wonderful week wasn't over yet! I still had a GunDiva reunion to look forward to! Glenna, the other GunDiva, finished her book and revisions and was ready for some Gunpowder Therapy. I love shooting, but haven't been since I got my ass handed to me at the August Defensive Pistol match last year. Since I sold all of my guns a couple of years ago, I've been shooting borrowed guns and one in particular I just can't get a handle on. I tried and tried with this gun, but it just wasn't working for me, so while I was really, really looking forward to shooting with Glenna, I was also dreading shooting that darn 9mm. Last night as I was falling asleep, I remembered I had a .45 to shoot and I even had some extra rounds in a couple of my old magazines. Yay!

I woke up ready to go. The GunDivas haven't spent any quality time together since before RCC and I started dating, so even if we didn't get any shooting done, it would be wonderful to catch up with her. I unloaded the 9 from my shooting bag and replaced it with the .45, determined to do better this time.

We long ago decided that quality shooting was better than quantity shooting, so we knew going out that we'd only shoot a magazine or so. It's all about technique and precision when we go out, and the last couple of times we had gone (forever ago) I had finished up completely frustrated. I felt like I had to master that 9mm and the harder I tried, the worse I got. I knew going out today that I might not shoot any better with the .45, afterall, it's been seven months since I've had any trigger time and that was not a good experience.

Shouldn't have worried. We did some dry-fire practice, just presenting from the holster and lining up our sight picture for warm-up before going live.

1st live round, dead on! 2nd live round, right above the first. The 3rd round obliterated the small sliver of paper separating the 1st two rounds and so on until the magazine was empty.

Hell yes! The GunDiva is back!


I can't explain the relief I felt to see the half-dollar size hole in the target. That's more like it. That all-over-the-place bullshit with the 9 was o-v-e-r. I didn't realize how much psychological damage shooting poorly had done - after all, I'm the GunDiva, I've always shot well and prided myself on it - until I picked up that .45 and did well with it today.

Thank you Glenna for going out to the range with me today, it was wonderful. Euphoric, even.