🚙The Second Adventure
A couple of months after my first Jeep adventure (which, let’s be honest, didn’t exactly go as planned), I was ready to hit the trails again. This time, we were aiming for something easy — a simple, scenic day that was more “photo safari” than “survival training.”
We headed up above Lytle Creek in the San Bernardino foothills, overlooking the Cajon Pass, using the OnX app to pick a nice, gentle route. It was a gorgeous day — blue skies, fresh mountain air, and views that stretched forever across the California scrubland. This time, my wife and our 15-year-old daughter came along to share the fun. My wife was excited. My daughter, well… she was interested, which is basically a teenager’s version of enthusiastic.
Everything started smoothly. We reached the summit, snapped some photos, and began heading down a different (but still supposedly easy) route. And that’s where the fun stopped.
⚠️ The Slide
Partway down, we hit a section where part of the hillside had slid onto the trail. It didn’t look too bad from inside the Jeep. And here’s where I made Mistake #1: I didn’t get out to check.
Mistake #2? Instead of going over the thickest part of the slide — which Jeeps are built for — I tried to skirt the edge where it looked lowest. Spoiler: It wasn’t solid.
The Jeep started sliding, and I slammed on the brakes. I told my wife and daughter to get out while I tried to handle it. Testosterone dialed up to 11, I climbed back in and thought, “I’ve got this.”
Nope.
Instead of going slow and steady, I panicked, hit the accelerator, and lost all traction. I heard a piercing scream from my daughter, and my wife was banging on the window yelling, “Get out of the car now!”
That’s when intelligence finally beat out ego. I stopped, climbed out the passenger side (the only safe exit — the driver’s side was pointed down the mountain), and realized: this was bad. Like, “might-need-a-new-Jeep” bad.
📞 Calling for Help
We were stuck in the middle of nowhere, but thankfully, we had cell signal. I called 911. The first dispatcher, bless their heart, was completely baffled. They sent the CHP, and at some point, we found ourselves talking to the Fontana Sheriff, who advised us to start hiking down the mountain so they could pick us up.
As we started walking, a small Cessna plane began circling overhead. I half-joked to my wife, “Think that’s for us?” Turns out — it was. Yes, we had managed to trigger an aerial search.
Then came another call: “Mr. Kaiser, why are you walking away from your vehicle? We can see you from the air. Get back to the Jeep.” So I double-timed it back up the mountain, which was about as fun as it sounds, because a tow truck was en route.
🚛 The Rescue
It took two hours, some white-knuckle winching, and a $1,500 check to get the Jeep out safely. There was some minor rim and brake caliper damage, but nothing catastrophic. The tow crew was calm and professional, though you could tell even they knew this was no ordinary recovery.
As I watched them work, I kept thinking two things:
- How could I have been so dumb?
- How am I going to buy another Jeep if I wreck this one — and do they even make this yellow anymore?
🤦 What I Learned
I walked away with some valuable lessons:
- Get out and look. Don’t rely on an app or your gut from the driver’s seat. Check the terrain.
- Don’t let your ego drive. Skirting the edge to avoid the hard part was a bad call. Or getting into the car again to keep going.
- It’s okay to turn around. Taking the long way out beats taking the expensive way out.
- Upgrade wisely. I’ve since improved the Jeep (stay tuned for a future post on that) — and I plan to get some off-roading training under my belt.
As for my daughter? She’s hesitant to be a passenger again, but when I floated the idea of letting her drive somewhere flat and safe, her interest perked right back up.
🎤 The Rookie Award Speech
If I were handing out a Jeep Adventure Rookie award, I’d thank:
- My wife, for her patience and support.
- The CHP and Fontana Sheriff, for sending help (and a plane!).
- The tow crew, for pulling off a small miracle.
And yes, the most ridiculous moment was me hopping back in the Jeep, thinking “I’ve got this,” and immediately making it worse. Live and learn.
💛 Final Takeaway
Owning a Jeep has unlocked a part of me that’s adventurous, determined, and occasionally foolish — but I love it. Even when things go sideways (literally), it’s part of the experience.
So, to my fellow Jeep owners:
Don’t be afraid to turn around. Trust me — it’s cheaper, safer, and more pride saving stories to tell.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.