A Jeep, a Wedding, and a Children’s Book

By David McBee

I stood in the lobby at 4-Wheel Parts, minding my own business, when a complete stranger approached me and asked if the blue Jeep in the back was mine. Confirming that it was, I was met with an introduction, “I’m Hooper and my buddy Dave is the guy installing your lift kit right now. You wanna go to my wedding this summer?”

Knowing he had caught me off-guard, he smiled and continued, “The thing is, our wedding is taking place at the top of a mountain and I need vehicles that transport guests, the wedding party, and the photographer up there. Dave says you’re pretty cool and it looks like your Jeep will be able to handle the trail when he’s done with the modifications.”

That’s when it clicked. He wasn’t inviting me to his wedding. He was inviting my Jeep. So, what the hell? I was game. Jeeps had been my jam since I was sixteen years old, ignited by my first true love, a rusty old ‘76 CJ-7 that I had used to explore the back roads of Missouri. The Instagram-worthy terrains existed only in the form of a bucket list. But on this day, I finally had a Jeep that could translate dreams into tread marks, and an experienced wheeler who would show me the way. I agreed to Hooper’s invitation.

Then it hit me. Was I really willing to travel to Colorado and drive to the top of a mountain with very experienced Jeepers that I didn’t even know that well? And to make things more intimidating, they were going straight to Moab, Utah after the wedding in Colorado. I had spent hours watching YouTube videos of Moab and the crazy antics that went down there. Countless posts showed vehicles getting banged up, stuck, and even rolling over.

Bad memories of Colorado surfaced, reminding me of the panic attack I experienced on the road from Silverton to Durango. Mountain roads made this Kansas boy as nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving Eve. No joke, I had a true phobia.

A conversation with my dad followed. Asking if I was out of my league, he pulled some of that “dad wisdom” on me saying, “Son, courage doesn’t mean you’re not afraid. It means you don’t let fear stop you.”

Fast forward a few weeks down the line, my dad rode shotgun as we scaled a gorgeous Breckenridge mountain. My heart raced, but this trail was gentler, without sheer drops, so I was able to keep my phobia in check.

Atop the mountain, we lined up a dozen Jeeps to create a makeshift aisle for the bride’s march. Hooper’s father, Carl officiated, and Desiree, his bride, gracefully walked down the improvised aisle. Melodies flowed from a Bluetooth speaker, and toasts ushered in the new chapter.

Glancing around, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of awe. Just checking off a major bucket list item and forming incredible new friendships, it struck me that none of this would have been possible if I had owned a standard car. Beyond my expectations, I gained not just a vehicle, but a community and an unforgettable adventure.

But that was really just the beginning of the story. Post-revelry, we journeyed westward, to Moab – the ultimate off-road playground.

The sun dipped low in the sky as Hooper led us directly to his favorite trail, Hell’s Revenge. According to the Bureau of Land Management, Hell’s Revenge “is recommended for only very experienced drivers with advanced equipment” and is rated an 8 out of 10 for difficulty. Certainly, Moab offered more moderate trails, like Fins ‘n’ Things that would have given me time to get comfortable with the “slickrock” and my own capabilities. Starting with Hell’s Revenge was a little like tossing a non-swimmer into the deep sea.

The entrance to the trail has unique topography. Imagine a giant sand worm from Dune emerging from the desert and then trying to drive a Jeep on its back. The surface area is about 12 feet wide and there are steep drops on both sides. Fatality wasn’t a certainty, but there would be no driving home for the person who failed.

In the middle of the pack, I slowly followed Carl up the trail. A tingling in my hands warned that I might be in over my head.

As we peaked near the highest point of the fin my Jeep teetered off-camber. The outside edge of the trail was lower than the inside edge, giving the impression that a plunge to my death was imminent.

Perhaps to an onlooker, my reaction might have appeared excessive. Now, having conquered the trail several times, mastering trickier obstacles, I concede that I overreacted. This was small fries compared to my future Jeep exploits. But in the moment, terror ruled.

Shaking like a chihuahua in winter, I started to hyperventilate. Convinced that I was about to pass out, I put the Jeep in park and started contemplating how I could get down from there as quickly as possible. Terror and regret screamed that I had made a huge mistake.

Then, appearing alongside my driver’s side window, Levi and Dave quickly came to understand my plight. They offered solace and kind words of encouragement. Meanwhile, Carl emerged from his Jeep, trying his best to guide me along the trail.

No annoyance. No impatience. Everyone simply helped me calm down and gave me the support I needed to slowly move forward.

Putting the Jeep back in gear, deep breaths calmed me as I crawled forward. As we crossed to level ground, my new friends cheered my success.

That’s when I knew I had found my tribe. Even after inconveniencing them, they embraced me as one of their own. Over the next few days, they provided additional moral support as I got more comfortable with every challenge.

And boy did I get comfortable. After that amazing week in Moab, I continued to chase that high, taking my Jeep to nearly a dozen states climbing over boulders, driving through rivers, traversing forests, and scaling mountain cliff roads. Conquering fear makes me feel alive, like there’s no challenge I can’t overcome.

By the way, these events inspired more than this story. Post- Moab, Hooper and company were morphed into characters in my children’s book, DJ’s Off-Road Adventures: DJ Faces His Fear. Now I get to inspire young hearts.

I can’t help but be grateful to Hooper and my whole off-road community for providing me with such an inspiring and life-altering experience.