Its a little fuzzy...
I was only 20 feet behind G.I. John when the whole deal went down, but I still am not sure of all of the particulars. We were about 100 feet from the end of the Orange trail, coming out of a technical, tight, flexy section and I was gunning. As we rounded a corner, I noticed a nicer mud-terrain tire, covered in mud, off to the side of the trail. Having just traversed washing machine, golf cart, tire sale, and other perilous trail markers, the single tire on the side of the trail did not arouse the normal suspicion. About this time, John came over the CB and said that something was dragging, and he needed to check it out. He stops, looks under the drivers side, and under the front, and, seeing nothing unusual, got back into the truck and continued on. At this point my wife says 'Sweetheart, that kind gentleman in front of you is running on the rim' , or something like that. Those who know my darling wife know that she is gifted with words. Regardless, I grab the CB and inform John that the tire he passed about 75 feet ago was his. Somehow, the tire blew a bead in the rocks, and then just flopped off going around a corner.
By far the most amusing aspect of the situation was Johns visual inspection, of the axles, from two angles, failing to notice that he was minus one 32" tire, and then driving another 20 feet up the trail.
This guy is in charge of groups of tanks.
Not one tank, groups of tanks.
He also slept in a tent Friday night.
Makes one wonder.
Highest of high comedy.
:cheers: