The Floridians by Elijah Rivera

It is an extremely peculiar feeling when sublime natural beauty becomes just a bit mundane. There is an almost comic surrealness to going about one’s day, almost oblivious, in the shadow of an awe-inspiring sunset over the mountains. Yet as someone born and raised in Colorado, I can say that I’ve ignored my fair share of beautiful scenery in favor of whatever task was at hand. Not to mention, as a car enthusiast, that task may be gawking at a pristine condition Lotus Esprit or some other car I find interesting on the street. Missing the forest for the trees (both literally and figuratively) seems to be a common pastime for a lot of other natives in our great state. But not everyone who enters this state is as jaded to its good looks as we, which can sometimes lead to problems, and more importantly reflection.

            My girlfriend at the time of this story had begun to take a real interest in cars (with some of my enthusiasm for classic cars rubbing off on her), so that summer she finally decided to pull the trigger, and buy something legitimately interesting. Her entry into the world of automotive enthusiasm was a 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser FJ60. She loves the outdoors and most of our travel together was National Park focused. Needless to say, she would have a tough time picking a better classic off-roader for the job of getting up close and personal with America’s natural splendor. This FJ came from Florida and was in fantastic condition (especially given the offerings on marketplace in this state), the wheel-wells were all intact, the frame had only surface rust, and the lift was well done with a good set of off-road tires. The stock 2F engine was also in fantastic shape, though one of the first problems with the car was the carburetor. The stock carb had been replaced with an aftermarket one that caused the car to simply die at idle unless you set the idle at an unsafe speed for this low revving behemoth of a straight 6. I had some experience with carburetors since, less than a year before, I had bought a 1972 Datsun 510 wagon which was having its own carb issues. However, my carburetor knowledge was lacking, and despite the dealership “fixing” the issue before sale, it was only a matter of time before we would have to handle it ourselves.

            Her mother and sister were coming to town for a week and My girlfriend at the time wanted to show them another side of this state that her new, capable off-roading machine could facilitate. She decided Rocky Mountain National Park would be the perfect test for her new, 4,200 pound, 36 year old toy. Because she was still learning to drive standard, I (maybe a little too enthusiastically) volunteered to be chauffeur for the day’s events, and thus the adventure began. The FJ took some getting used to on the highway. Despite most daily drivers being descended from vehicles like it, the FJ60 was conceived in an age where SUVs were a toy that only touched pavement when you were on your way to the next off-road trail, and it showed that design philosophy on the way to our destination. The overzealous power steering made inputs to the wheel more of a suggestion and the top-heavy vehicles weight shifting during these suggestions took some getting used to. However, once you did get used to it, the experience of driving this 2 ton roll-over waiting to happen was actually quite relaxing. The whole way to our destination though, one thing did worry me: how would the vehicle fair with the change in altitude? Considering that here in Colorado, the lowest point in the state is still at 3,300 feet above sea level, and the FJ had been running relatively ok so far meant that that worry did not overshadow the experience.

            After some light hiking and some negotiating with the new (to me) reservation system at the park, we finally made it to the first real test of this aged legend: Old Fall River Road. This road, completed in 1920, was the first road through the park, connecting Estes Park with Grand Lake. Like the more famous Trail Ridge Road which replaced it in the 30s, Old Fall River is incredibly scenic, but unlike the former, this road is much more perilous. The road is one way up due to its narrowness and has a much more aggressive incline, meaning that good ground clearance, and power to all 4 wheels is recommended. As I got out to lock the front wheels for 4 wheel drive, a silver, late model Chrysler 300 appeared with Texas plates, and a visibly retired couple at the helm. They stopped at the bottom of the incline which marks the beginning of the trail. Old Fall River Road is not an advanced off-road trail by most metrics, but it is also not very friendly to any vehicle, let alone a low-slung, full-size sedan. One need only imagine their “favorite” section of I-270, teleported to the steepest side of a mountain, and elongated 9 miles. I watched as this modern American land yacht made it a few feet up the road, encountered its first pothole, and then the reverse lights made their not too unexpected appearance. I got back in the FJ just as the car that would be unintentionally setting my pace appeared: A silver Buick Encore with Florida plates.

            To me, crossovers are the car equivalent of tofu, they can be enjoyable, but really only with added flavor. In following with that analogy, the Buick Encore is like tofu flavored tofu. So, when I took my place behind this egg shaped (and egg colored) NPC-mobile, I was ready to have my low expectations met or slightly exceeded. We got underway and immediately I wanted to see what the FJ could do but already the pace being set was a real problem. The speed limit on Old Fall River Road is 15 MPH, but my new Floridian were more cautious than anticipated and so our new pace was around 5 MPH. Anyone who has ever driven an old car, especially one with a standard transmission, can tell you that hills are a nightmare which only momentum and a good pace can only attempt to wake you up from. While the Buick crawled along obliviously, weaving in and out of potholes that I simply drove right into, I was constantly shifting from first to second to maintain a consistent speed. I stopped briefly to shift to 4L, but even fourth in this range was too fast and ended up too close for comfort. The giant straight six bellowed as it was being put to the test in a much different way than I had anticipated, and I began to worry and grow frustrated. Vehicle turn outs dot the length of this road for occasions like this, but these aren’t too common in altitude challenged states, so its up to the driver to remember to use them, and of course this one did not. However, it appeared that my pace car began to take notice of the happenings behind them, either due to the noise of the struggling straight six or the “TOYOTA” badged grille taking up nearly all their rear-view. They began to speed up, eventually reaching the designated 15 MPH, but it was too late. My frustration had led to a bit of minor road rage and I was no longer satisfied with doing the speed limit. I hate to admit this, but the tailgating that was once inadvertent, was now intentional. My passengers took notice and cautioned against this course of action, but to no avail, I was in an Off-roader with a capital O and no one could stop me. After a mile or so, my one-sided battle with the Floridians (which evolved into a battle against crossovers, and the entire state of Florida by the end of my rage fueled ranting to my girlfriend and her beleaguered family) ended when the Encore driver was finally seduced by the enticing curvature of one of the vehicle turnouts which must have taken all their will power to avoid up to this point. With the Encore out of the way, I down shifted, and opened the throttle (eventually stopping a little further ahead to shift back into 4H since it really wasn’t necessary at this point). My frustration subsided and I began to enjoy myself and the FJ again. Victory was mine and the other side didn’t even know they lost. Yet, another quarter mile up the road, I realized that I was speeding a little, and I wasn’t paying attention to the picturesque view around me. I began to wonder: “sure, I had won, but at what cost?”

            We finally reached the top, they went to the visitor’s center to get stamps, and I chatted up one of the off-road tour guides driving a Frankenstein’s monster that was half FJ40 and half Tundra. However, even though it had just happened, I could hardly recall anything about the road we were just on. I knew it must have been pretty given my passengers enthusiasm, but it was like I wasn’t actually there to experience it, I was so focused on impressing myself with the offroad performance of a vehicle that spent the better half of last century being impressive, so did I really need to find out for myself THAT bad? For enthusiasts of this great state, maybe we could take a cue from the tourists and slow down to soak it all in occasionally, whether carving the passes on or off road. As for those out-of-staters, maybe you could enjoy Colorado at a little closer to the speed limit?