February 1987, I was working shift work. ATC's were all the rage. 3-wheelers were everywhere and the 350 Warrior 4-wheelers were the big dog in the sand.  A bunch of us decided it was time for a trip to Rocky Point, Mexico for a weekend of sand and Corona! I had only ridden an ATC twice before, that being on a 200X 3-wheeler, which was very successful in throwing me off into the cactus and briars on a regular basis. So, we're going to Rocky Point lets rent a bigger and badder 3-wheeler!  One friend Rick, and I got off work Friday morning at 7 AM. I went and picked up two ATC's one for myself and one for my girlfriend. I rented her a 200X, because she was still an "amateur", but I was ready for more power so I dropped a deposit on a 350X 3-wheeler. Well, I never had time to get any sleep that day and we all had to meet at about 5 that afternoon to form our Mexican caravan.

Between some friends being late and other problems, we never made it to Sandy Beach in Rocky Point until about midnight. Well, we were camping right on the beach, something I'm told you can't even do any more down there. We got all of our tents pitched, gear stowed and settled down for a few more cervesa's. Now I'm beat at this point, but I had just paid a bunch of money to rent two ATC's for the weekend. It was weekend and we were on a sandy beach in Mexico. I figured it was time to ride, but had never been in Rocky Point before.

Camp set while Rick & Jeff contemplate Corona.

My girlfriend had no interest what so ever in going riding at night somewhere where she had never been before. Fine with me. I enlisted a friend Jeff, who had been there previously,  to take me on a tour. I told him to take one of my rentals, the 200X.  We blazed off into the night going back behind the beach through some rolling dunes. Well even though I had the faster ATC, I was regulated to eating a sizable quantity of dust given my complete lack of a clue where the hell we were going! We finally came out on the beach some distance down form our campsite.  OK, I figured that we were south of our camp and I would eventually run into our camp just by going straight up the beach.  I was done eating Jeff's dust. The tide was way out, leaving a beautiful flat packed sand raceway that would lead me back to my friends.

Jeff and I decided it was time to head back. Shortly after getting on the flat sand, I figured it was time to open the 350X up and leave Jeff behind. We're blazing along and I was ready for some payback. I reasoned, I could just slide over to where the surf was washing up, stick a back wheel in it and splash the heck out of Jeff. It ain't dust, but it was midnight in February and water would do! 

Big mistake. Apparently when you slow down one wheel on a solid axle it has an equal and opposite effect.  To put it simply, stick the left wheel in the surf and the ATC takes a hard left, sending it and it's uninformed pilot heading for Hawaii. Next thing I knew I was under cold water! I came to my senses and found myself in about three feet of water, minus my glasses. The only thing I saw of the beast that got me there was three balloon tires sticking up out of the water.

Jeff came wading out to my assistance. Somehow he found my glasses. I still don't know how though. Maybe it was the ATC's headlight that was still burning bright even though it was under water at this point. We pushed the three wheel monster to the beach, it wouldn't start, go figure. Jeff took off up the beach and returned with Rick and his Warrior. We towed my ride back to camp. At this point, I'm freezing. A fresh dry set of clothes were in order. At this point I noticed quite a bit blood on my arm. The bottom of the sea was none to kind to my skin!

The next day we all awoke to bright sunshine.  I figured my riding was over for the weekend. To everyone's surprise the 350X fired up. Water sloshing around inside the headlight! We rode the rest of that day, attacking the beach, the sand and "Competition Hill".  My rented tormentor took several opportunities  to remind me I didn't know how to ride a 3-wheeler like anyone with any sense. From rollovers to backwards flips, luckily none were as damaging as the previous nights event.

Here's some pictures from that weekend. They had to be scanned so the quality is a little less than normally expected.

Here's a good shot. The nasty little ATC the next morning at my camp. You can see the sweatshirt I was wearing the night of my swim. Notice the red spot on the end of the sleeve!

Here's John and Rick cutting it up on the beach at low tide. Of course I wasn't  the only only who attempted to kill themself that weekend. The girls were all sitting around camp watching Rick & Johns antics.  Rick figured he was ready for a Corona, so after aiming  the ATC back towards camp, he figured he'd impress the ladies with a high speed fly-by. Well, suffice to say he impressed them, but not how he intended. OK, Ricks going WFO towards camp. Unfortunately he forgot that many beach dwellers dig sizable fire pits to use at night.  Well one of these bomb craters happened to be just out in front of where the girls were sitting.  Rick and hauling ATC meet large hole. Hole wins. The ATC decided the hole was a good place to stop for the day but failed to convey it's plans to Rick. Therefore Rick continued on sans ATC for about another 15 feet prior to a less than graceful crash landing. After the girls determined Rick was OK except for a severely bruised ego, one of them remarked, "They had never seen so much beef go flying so far!"  As with my ATC, Rick's Warrior suffered only cosmetic damage, so the search for Short Term Disability continued. 

What a blast we all had ripping around the trails that ran along the beach and through the dunes!

I was told this was called Competition Hill, just like surfing in the sand at full throttle.

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