We all do interesting things (and some dumb ones) in our youth, right? If you were one who never did anything wild and dumb, you are advised to stop reading this story for fear you’ll hurt yourself from shaking your head at my stories like this one. Everyone else, read on.
One of my more interesting pursuits in my late teens and twenties was chasing and racing jackrabbits with a Volkswagen bug. I put ultra-wide rims and sand tires on it (necessitating broad-flared fenders) to give me traction in the sands of the Mojave Desert, where I plied my dubious hobby.
There always seemed to be someone crazy enough to sit shotgun, and often someone in the back seat where they were bounced around unceremoniously. First, we’d surround ourselves with water bottles and snacks, then set up a base camp in the desert.
I liked to be near wide riverbeds where there was sparse brush and the most open space for the chase. It turned out that jackrabbits favored the same areas and were often in abundance.
The games would start by cruising along near brush lines until a jackrabbit flushed. They always hit the ground running and those critters are faster than greased lightning.
To stand a chance of keeping up with the bounding bunny, I had to be in third gear within six heartbeats. I used a Coors tap handle for a gearshift knob. I asked a heck of a lot of my clutch and transmission. In fact, I had to replace the clutch at least once a year due to speed-shifting and the weight of the fat wheels and tires. But it was worth it.
A scampering jackrabbit changes directions every few seconds while in close range, so staying with it meant spinning the steering wheel and hanging on tight. We’d blast through desert shrubs and launch off uneven ground, laughing and cheering the whole time.
Catching a running jackrabbit wasn’t going to happen except by sheer luck once in a great while. Once the jackrabbit put some distance between us, it would turn on the afterburners and make a beeline for the far side of the riverbed. At that point, it was time to go flush another jack and start the chase anew.
That is perfectly okay because we had no intention of hunting and eating a jackrabbit. For dinner we’d go on foot and hunt cottontail which taste way better than a mangy jackrabbit, which has dark red and strong-tasting meat. In fact, they are not even related.
A cottontail is a very tasty member of the hare family, whereas a jackrabbit is a member of the rodent family. That is the biology lesson and the adventure yarn of the week.
By the way, that poor VW only lasted a few years before needing pretty much a new everything. But they sure were a fun few years.
— Capt. David Bacon operates WaveWalker Charters and is president of SOFTIN Inc., a nonprofit organization providing seafaring opportunities for those in need. Visit softininc.blogspot.com to learn more about the organization and how you can help. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.