Paragon: a pattern or model of excellence (Oxford English Dictionary).

Well, one thing we can say with absolute certainty after our last trail ride is that Paragon Park definitely supplies some excellent adventures! When all the damage is added up, it will probably be one of the most expensive runs per capita LIOR has been on in a long time. The list begins with Bob Blair and his trailer. As Bob was turning around to off-load Howler he snapped an axle on the trailer. We should have been paying attention to the omens.

Here’s the list: Marc R. broke Tan Whale’s rear drive shaft on the road to the first trail (in all fairness there was a defective u-joint). I bent my new heavy-duty tie-rod, and destroyed the crossmember that holds up the t-case on the Barkmobile due to my highly skilled rock-crawling techniques. Bulldog Acconi (the only NYPD officer not working that weekend) snapped his front drive shaft when he came down on it. Ruark the Turk tried to even out the highway damage he’d done to his truck’s right side by laying the left side into a tree on Rattler’s Tail. He also tore up some other stuff, tranny, I think, as he almost didn’t make it home. Howie broke a brake line. Scoutmaster Blair added insult to injury by creasing Howler’s right rear on a tree. Dan the man Koopman disturbed the smooth curve of the left front of his YJ. And, saving best for last, Ted the Fed bent his roll cage and dented the rear tub of his TJ when he rolled over while playing on a rock. I guess he found out just how far up that rock he could drive his right front tire. Lucy survived unharmed, though not too eager to get back into the Jeep.

The day began in typical LIOR fashion, standing around the meeting place gabbing like a bunch of . . . uh, gabby people (almost did it again, Joan). We finally got everyone together, running only about 20 minutes behind our called starting time, as we entered Paragon Park by the water tower. Bob pulled up ahead to off-load Howler from his trailer and we had our first delay of the day as Bob jockeyed the trailer into an out-of-the-way corner. We finally made it down to the martialling area where we found our guides Bruce and Lynn waiting for us in the clear autumn sunlight. We numbered thirteen trucks, and decided that we’d all go off to try Rattler first.

Marc R. and Tan Whale’s drive shaft

On the way up to Rattler we heard CB smatterings like “your on a rock, back up come to your right a little,” etc. Turns out Marc R. snagged Tan Whale’s rear drive shaft and snapped a faulty u-joint. He pulled up and Bob, Keith and Marc spent most of the morning installing a spare u-joint Marc just happened to have in his truck.

Rattler has two parts, the head and the tail, and is most definitely a hardcore trail. We split into two groups, one going up the head of Rattler first and one going down the tail. I followed Mark S. and Bulldog Acconi into the Rattler’s tail, where we stopped for a moment while Bulldog delivered his spare brake line to Howie, who had snagged a line to his front brakes as he headed up Rattler’s head. Upon entering Rattler’s Tail the first thing you are faced with is a rock garden that starts tough and immediately places a jumble of couch-sized rocks a cross the trail. This is where I got seriously hung up, had to winch off and finally crushed the life out of my crossmember. At the end of the first short garden is a hard turn to the right followed by another garden that begins with a pile of conglomerate slabs offering several lines of approach. It was making the turn into this part of the garden where Turk laid his Toyota against a tree and severely creased his left side. Here, too, Keith ended up winching his yellow CJ off the rock slabs. After about 20 yards of this garden the trail split, the left going down to the rest of the Tail, right bailing out to the access road.

One thing I learned is that as I look at the trail, if I do not believe I have the clearance to make the obstacles, then I most likely do not have the clearance to make the obstacles. Now I’m not saying that a more skilled driver than I would have necessarily done all the damage I did, but I did learn to trust my own instincts from now on. I hit the bailout point on Rattler’s Tail and turned out to escape to the road, where Bob, Marc and Keith were working on the Tan Whale. I sat and sunned myself in the bright autumn sunshine as I watched John and Mark disappear into the depths of the woods, and listened to the calls of despair and triumph echoing out of the woods all around me as people were trapped by or conquered the obstacles on Rattler.



Dan, and his YJ, wave hello from the crest of Rattler’s Head



I did not finish Rattler; I had heard enough crunching from my truck for one day. I swear I could hear the Barkmobile whimpering in pain as I warmed by bones in the sun. Soon enough all the guys who finished Rattler’s tail and the guys who did Rattler’s head gathered back down on the access road, and as we ate lunch we discussed our earlier decision to all go hardcore. By now I, and a number of the rest of us, were ready for a more moderate trail, so about seven of us headed out to the trail called Sleepy Hollow with Lynn while the rest stayed with Bruce to do the part of Rattler they hadn’t done yet. It was while playing by the side of the trail here that Ted the Fed dumped his TJ on its side. He was just checking out his articulation on a trailside rock when . . . oops, went a little too far up the rock. It was at this point he turned to Susan and said, “We’re going over.” Plop.

Through the dust in the air, past the dangling spare, the flag was still there!