#dirtbagswag whips 005: Kyle's Mighty Morphin' White Ford Ranger

Kyle emanates the #dirtbagswag spirit

For those of us who remember the every-movement-over-exaggerated, gratuitously-electric-guitar-laden-soundtracked, live action children's television series, Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, few things were as egregiously epic and anxiously anticipated as Tommy Oliver's revelation as the White Ranger. Together with his talking ninja saber, "Saba," the White Ranger summons Tigerzord and finally defeats the evil Lord Zedd and his minions (or at least, that's what I learned from wikipedia). 

Or who could forget Tommy, the White Ranger, skydiving -- on a snowboard! -- in the opening scene of Power Rangers: The Movie? (That, I actually remember.) Basically, Tommy was a total bad astronaut and was asked by Zordon to be the new leader of the Rangers , completely usurping power over Jason, the Red Ranger, who was a total poser anyway. Ivan Ooze and his Ectomorphicon Titans never stood a chance. 

Like most of our goateed, bleached tipped, spiked haired heroes of the nineties, Tommy Oliver faded into obscurity. Or, according to the internet, became a washed-up, poorly tattooed, mixed martial arts fighter doing appearances at sci-fi, comic book conventions. But the legend of the White Ranger lives on, forever a figment of our childhood nostalgia. And, of course, as my friend Kyle's 2008, white, Ford Ranger. 

Tommy in the Rockies 

Kyle bought his truck used from a commercial fleet; meaning it has no bells and whistles or fancy thing-a-mabobs. It's just a truck, as a truck should be. And he has driven it to climbing destinations all over the United States. He has to, because he lives in Florida. The Power Rangers needed Tommy to create the Ninja Falcon Megazord and fly Ivan Ooze outer space to his cosmic end. Likewise, Kyle needs a Ranger of his own to get to higher elevations. And it's a beautiful thing.

After a multi-week, cross country road trip with little to no rain the whole time, it finally deluged in Colorado Springs and Kyle learned the hard way about not having a truck bed top. Back at home, Kyle set Tommy up with this sweet dirtbag rig that keeps him and his girlfriend snug and dry during the cool, wet, southeastern climbing seasons and stores all of his climbing gear and vegan friendly kitchen.

Kyle and Tommy spent the summer in central Florida, working on a farm and learning about permaculture. But not without going climbing at the Obed first. And rumor has it he wandered out west again too. You can watch a beautiful and short travel video of a climbing trip Kyle, Tommy, and myself took a few years ago HERE.

Tommy at the Obed

Whip Specs

make and model: 2008 Ford Ranger
moniker: "Tommy,"  AKA "Dirtbag Dragon," AKA "Piece of Trash"
under the hood: 4.0 L SOHC V6
dirtbag mods: truck bed cover, shelving unit, raised platform bed with essential storage cubbies underneath.

#dirtbagswag

An Open Letter to Every Outdoor Retail Company Ever

The warm alpine glow bounced off the face of White's Peak, down into the valley which separates it from Mt. Antero. It was cold but the early morning light and the urge to relieve myself beckoned me from my Black Diamond bivy bag. I stretched my legs and wiggled my toes and then began to unzip my bivy hood.

SNAG.

The zipper was caught on the NanoShield fabric. I muscled my index and middle fingers into the minuscule unzipped hole, loosened the fabric, and unzipped some more.

SNAG. 

Repeat a half a dozen more times.

With my head finally dislodged from my delightfully lightweight but agonizingly difficult-to-get-out-of rain shelter, I was a step closer to urinating and starting my day. Reluctantly, I started to unzip my beloved Mountain Hardware UltraLamina 32 sleeping bag.

SNAG. 

I wiggled my left arm free from the mummy bag to pull the ultra lightweight synthetic material out of the teeth of the zipper and pulled some more.

SNAG. 

Now I really had to drain the main vein. My right leg began to bounce a little bit, a little like Elvis but a lot more like a toddler standing in line at a urinal. They can put a man on the moon! I thought to myself while wrestling out a few more snags, crawling out and putting on my Chacos. Thankfully, my campers/clients were still asleep so I didn't have to walk far to relieve myself. I spread my knees in a semi-athletic stance and pulled down the zipper of my Marmot Precip Pants.

SNAG. 

SNAG some more.

A string of unmentionable language vomited from my mouth before I barely could access the crotch zipper of my Kuhl Liberator Zip-Off Pants under my rain shell. I wore my Precips over my shorts because the zipper had fallen off the left pant leg on another mountain another week. It took all that was in me to hold my super charged urine while fiddling with an assortment of zippers and zipper teeth on an array of outdoor retail.What had started as a pleasant, peaceful morning in a lovely valley between two beautiful mountains had turned into urinary nightmare.

Chances are if you have ever spent a night in the woods, you had at least one piece of equipment with a zipper on it. And chances are you have a story similar to my own. Which is why I have written an open letter to every outdoor company ever. "Open Letters" are kind of a thing right now, what with the power of the internet and advent of social media and everything. But I believe in them. In 2007, I wrote an open letter to my congressman to end the Taco Bell monopoly of Mountain Dew Baja Blast. And in 2014, purchasing Baja Blast was made available in gas stations and grocery stores everywhere. You're welcome. Unfortunately, I don't drink soda anymore.

So without further adieu, my open letter to every outdoor retail company ever:

Let's spread this thing around. Let's start a movement. Let's be the change in the world we want to see.