Fate conspired to award me my chance at playing the fool like Ralph. I had an aunt that died and left me about $20,000. Hot damn! At first with reckless abandon, then with great care, I figured out how I was going to spend my windfall. When all was considered and school debits were paid, I still had plenty left - to buy a truck.

Gee, but what kind of truck? I know, how about a Chevy Blazer, the kind with the "real man's V8". (Where did I get this idea, anyway?).

Being more frugal than Ralph, I decided to get a used truck. I looked in the Tucson Daily Star classified and spotted a keeper "1976 Chevy Blazer, Auto, air, clean, $8000". How could this be? The year was 1976; a used 1976 truck? I couldn't believe my luck.

Further investigation showed that the truck belonged to a banker. When I first went to see it, he said "I get a new one every year." Cool. This one had the sum total of 17,000 miles. By looking at the tires, brand new on-road steel belted radials, it was clear that the truck was a virgin. "Only used on hunting trips up to Utah", the Banker said. I'd take care of that virginity problem soon enough. The deal was consummated and I was ecstatic! My own truck, virtually new. A 400 cubic inch V8, automatic transmission and full-time 4WD, Sky Blue (Chevy color code 120L), deluxe tan interior, the works!. The stage was set for major fun and major mischief.

The first order of the day was to get real rubber on this beast. Those wimpy steel belted radial road tires had to go!! So, I went to the tire store and got a set of Armstrong Tru-Traks - the en vogue off road tire of the day. Bias ply, nylon, aggressive tread. You know the kind, when they pass you on the road they buzz so loud that it makes your ears hurt. Yup. And as a bonus, since they were bias ply and nylon, they developed "flat" spots over night so the first few miles of travel on them when they are cold makes the truck ride like a paint shaker until they warm up and go back into round. Yes, a true man's tire.

The truck was purchased in September. For the next few months, I got acquainted with the truck's feel in the sand washes and on the desert trails around Tucson. A buddy of mine from Colorado, Gary Lubers and wife to be Sandy, had moved to Tucson and we had a number of occasions to explore the dirt roads in the area. But my lust for adventure was unfulfilled. In the distance, I could see dirt roads on the sides of the mountains that ring the Tucson valley. There were several in the Tucson mountains to the west that were no shown on any maps. And, there one trail I could see that seemed to go all the way to the top of the Rincon Mountains to the east of the valley.

I decided to start on the west and work east. It took me several days and a number of foiled attempts before I found the trail head for the dirt track I could see to the West. It seemed that someone was building a house right on the saddle of the mountain. This would give a clear, if not breathtaking view of both the Tucson valley to the East and the Avra Valley to the West. I drooled in anticipation of the view as we neared the top.

I was not disappointed, for the view was truly world class. The road to get there, however, was not. Very rough, large rocks in the middle of the trail. But, being young and stupid, it didn't stop me from shooting up the trail full blast Ralph Bell style. Those many trips to the viewpoint never ceased to give me the full adrenaline rush I sought. Fifty miles per hour up a steep trail clogged with loose rocks and sharp drop-offs. But luck was with me and nothing bad ever happened. Consequently, I grew bolder, and turned my sights to the East. Testosterone poisoning was eminent.