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- Mar 11, 2001
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I saw this on anopther website and wondered if the guy is a hog hunter we know. Hmmm. Nice looking hog rig.
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The very best way to test any car is to live with it: use it for everyday chores, boot it real hard on a long trip over turnpikes and snarly, fifth-rate roads, even ford a stream or two, if possible. Safari station wagon, loaded with more extras than a C.B. DeMille Memorial reunion.
Dave Hasinger, an old pal and hunting companion of mine, had been yaking for some time about going to the Great Smokies on a Prussian wild boar hunt. I knew as much about Prussian wild boars as a newly-born chipmunk and I couldn't have been less interested. But this looked like the chance to try out the Safari on the American version of the word so early one cold morning we took off. We packed elephant guns, pistols, cold weather clothes and emergency fluids(in case we were bitten by the natives) and headed for the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest on the southeast edge of the Great smokies National Park in North Carolina. (The name Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest had some meaning for me as the Great Poet once tanned my posterior for hanging on on his son's kisser at the ripe old age of about nine.)
The road into the Blue Boar Lodge looked like a re-run of the Argonne Forest, on edge, and the Pontiac's fast steering grooved the hairpin dirt turns(that at times were only a car's width wide) like a kid's bottom on a playground slide. Some of the drops, if you miscalculated, would hav been several hundred fet straight down. I'm glad we made our initial runs at night so we couldn't see what was over the cliff.
Another group of pals from Philadelphia was waiting for us and the next morning the Pontiac, loaded with equipment, Jim McMichail, myself, Dave Hasinger and Doctor Carl Jonas (a 200 pounder) started off for the mountain trails where the blue boar,imported from Germany over 60 years ago, reputedly thrive like poppies on a defunct grave. We forded several streams of heavily rushing water and then started heavily rushing water and then started a long climb up a rock path that had.......
After two days of this, our pack of dogs stumbled onto a boar. A quick shot in the back of the head after a rugged chase and the hunt was over.
Text with the ad
The very best way to test any car is to live with it: use it for everyday chores, boot it real hard on a long trip over turnpikes and snarly, fifth-rate roads, even ford a stream or two, if possible. Safari station wagon, loaded with more extras than a C.B. DeMille Memorial reunion.
Dave Hasinger, an old pal and hunting companion of mine, had been yaking for some time about going to the Great Smokies on a Prussian wild boar hunt. I knew as much about Prussian wild boars as a newly-born chipmunk and I couldn't have been less interested. But this looked like the chance to try out the Safari on the American version of the word so early one cold morning we took off. We packed elephant guns, pistols, cold weather clothes and emergency fluids(in case we were bitten by the natives) and headed for the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest on the southeast edge of the Great smokies National Park in North Carolina. (The name Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest had some meaning for me as the Great Poet once tanned my posterior for hanging on on his son's kisser at the ripe old age of about nine.)
The road into the Blue Boar Lodge looked like a re-run of the Argonne Forest, on edge, and the Pontiac's fast steering grooved the hairpin dirt turns(that at times were only a car's width wide) like a kid's bottom on a playground slide. Some of the drops, if you miscalculated, would hav been several hundred fet straight down. I'm glad we made our initial runs at night so we couldn't see what was over the cliff.
Another group of pals from Philadelphia was waiting for us and the next morning the Pontiac, loaded with equipment, Jim McMichail, myself, Dave Hasinger and Doctor Carl Jonas (a 200 pounder) started off for the mountain trails where the blue boar,imported from Germany over 60 years ago, reputedly thrive like poppies on a defunct grave. We forded several streams of heavily rushing water and then started heavily rushing water and then started a long climb up a rock path that had.......
After two days of this, our pack of dogs stumbled onto a boar. A quick shot in the back of the head after a rugged chase and the hunt was over.
