Needless to say seeing the burned out carcass of a Jeep spattered on the cliffside below me didn’t do much for my already shaky nerves. Only serving to increase the deleterious effect on intestinal fortitude was the inescapable fact that I was in the driver’s seat of a pickup truck that was pinned against a rock on one of the more technical off-road trails in Moab, Utah. That was my “Oh S%*T” moment.

Earlier in the day, we were making decent progress over the Kane Creek Trail, pressing through the majority of the obstacles without too much trouble. Well, there was the blown sidewall just prior to lunch. Intriguing how we spend months and hundreds or even thousands of dollars preparing for the worst case scenarios in off-road travel. Yet, often times we grimace at the thought of actually having to use that very same equipment! Finally employing my Hi-Lift jack and the spare tire that I’d dutifully hauled around off the tail end of my rig, it was an easy and expedient fix.

Continuing onwards, we soon happened upon a clear demonstration of how treacherous a trip to Moab can become. Approaching one of the first water crossings, a vehicle was pulled off to the side of the trail. Seeing the driver shaking the water out of his gauge cluster (yes, you read that correctly) served as an immediate testament to adequate depth soundings prior to executing a water crossing. That rather innocuous-looking stream just feet in front of us was actually deep enough to submerge the entire engine and cabin of a Toyota SUV, soaking its contents – human, electrical and mechanical- in the process. Cellular service dropped out twenty four hours ago and you’d be hard pressed to get road side assistance here. Our offer of assistance was greatly appreciated yet declined, and we continued on down the trail.

For the first half of the day, this final obstacle was merely an imposing mark on a map – an unknown. However, as we tepidly approached the base of the rocky and winding climb known as “Hamburger Hill”, its mythical status quickly became a reality. At this point we had gone too far to turn back, and retreat was not an option. Twenty minutes later, and it was my turn to make the ascent. Feeling my truck begin its sudden off-camber lurch off the side of that ancient Moab boulder, I knew instantly that I’d chosen the wrong line and applied too much throttle. The foreboding sound of sheet metal against sharp rock only served as evidence to my lack of thought. Quite a pressing feeling really, to be nearly inches away from a sheer cliff face. Of course, being in the driver’s seat of a six thousand pound vehicle that’s pinned against a rock only adds to that primeval excitement. It’s incredible, the amount of thoughts that can race through one’s mind – such a broad array of emotions, all within sheer milliseconds. Shock, self-doubt, fear, regret and resentment are just a smidgen of the emotional spectrum that can be experienced in the midst of a darn good “stuck”. It’s a reality of off-road travel and life.

Surely I could’ve found some mechanical mishap to frame as the basis of my mistake – yet, I’d only be lying to myself. Improvement as an operator is often times a much less expensive endeavor than trying to mask one’s self-doubt with expensive gear. Feeling my hands increasing their grip on the steering wheel, I mustered the intestinal fortitude to glance fleetingly over the edge of the trail whilst taking a quick breath to collect myself. Shortly thereafter, both myself and my steadfast spotter immediately knew that we had to keep going – daylight was burning quickly. The time for inward reflection would come later over that can of Ranier beer, not now. Evaluating the immediate terrain, and formulating a route, I ventured forth. Almost too easily, my rig navigated itself quite gracefully out of its “stuck”. Perhaps the smidgen of silver paint that I left behind on that particular outcropping of stone could be interpreted as the modern equivalent of rock art that is so prevalent throughout the area. Reflecting on the incident that night amidst the backdrop of constellations and a belly full the finest dehydrated meal – my mistake was quite clear. I’d used an excessive amount of throttle and wasn’t paying attention to where my passenger front tire was tracking.

We’ve all had them in one form or another – that proverbial, “Oh S@*T!” moment. Yet, I learned early on that the only productive reflection is to turn them into learning experiences and move on with your life, treating the dent(s) as a visible impetus to continue learning and improving upon individual skill sets. The most marked self-imparted lessons are learned through mistakes. Surely dents can just as easily happen within the framework of our own lives as well. A sheet metal repair can seem so frivolous when compared to a damaged life, decision or partnership. The best that we can hope for is to grow from our mistakes, expand our horizons and do our best to mitigate future damage.

Sure, I could just as easily re-paint my driver door or replace it with a new one. Yet, where is the sport in that? I’ll choose to wear it proudly as a badge of sorts. Of course, whether or not it’s seen as a testament to human stupidity or machismo accomplishment is up to you. All dents, whether tangible or intangible, often have a story behind them. It’s how we choose to reflect upon them that makes the adventure and shapes who we are as humans, venturing forth in both our lives and on our planet.

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