Mud and Guts: Four Wheeling With Ben Boada

On a dirt path fenced in by leafless trees, with a Camel cigarette poking out the corner of his mouth, Ben Boada works tirelessly to get his matte green Jeep unstuck. His wrinkled brow and chapped frown make him looked annoyed at the deep snow his tires are spinning over, but for him, this is one of the best parts of four wheeling.It’s not a race against time or another driver. Boada’s goal with this motor sport is to simply push his vehicle as hard as he can in order to make it through to the other side, wherever that may be. Today Boada’s roommate, Chris Semonelli, has led Boada to a snowmobile path near Stinson Lake. Because it is early April, the trail is still quite wet. But it isn’t the mud or tiny streams that cross the path that keep Boada from moving forward. Thick snowdrifts running for twenty feet or so across the width of the trail, shaded and left unthawed by the surrounding trees, have stopped Ben and his passengers.Boada’s twelve and a half inch-wide tires spin, spitting snow and dirt into the face of his friends as they look on from the side. Boada tries stuffing large rocks under the tires to gain traction, but blue smoke only rises as the tires grind against the stones. Luckily, this is a spot similar to many that Boada has been in before. Boada, a senior graphic design major, has a strong automotive background. Boada’s father, Eric Boada, has been in the car business since he was eighteen. Boada wasn’t really introduced to four wheeling until he was in high school, though. He helped his friend Paul Palazzo put a lift on Palazzo’s Jeep as well as a new Chevy engine under the hood. “We went four wheeling in the woods after, and it was really fun. The rest is history,” Boada said.Boada has lived in Connecticut his entire life, and there are only limited places he can go. “Sand pits are a lot of fun, but you have to knock the signs down and usually get kicked out. Another time I was with my dad on Christmas Eve and this guy came out in a robe and kicked us off his property.””Government owned land,” Boada says, “you can ride on – they can’t do anything about it.” There are stiff fines for going some places. When asked if more readily available four wheeling sites affected his decision to come to Plymouth State, Boada said, “Not really. But I did go four wheeling my first week here.”Boada has lifted his Jeep four inches, put bigger tires on it, installed new lights above the roof, and attempted to start a Jeep club at Plymouth State. He was basically laughed at because of liability reasons. After that he started leaving notes under the windshield wipers of big Jeeps he saw on campus. Since then, he’s gotten a few responses and shown a few people some new places to go. Most of his notes were ignored though, and Boada gets annoyed when he sees big, lifted Jeeps that are always spotless. “It’s pointless,” he says. “They should sell it to someone who’s going to use it.”Boada has never broken any part of his Jeep while four wheeling. However, there have been many dings and dents, but he doesn’t mind those. A four wheeling buddy pulled a dent out of Boada’s front fender, and Boada pushed it back in. “No, I want that there,” he said with a smile. “Chicks dig body damage.”That’s not to say he’s never been stuck. He has – many times. But he considers this one of the best things about four wheeling. “It’s challenging,” he says, “a huge thought process. What are you going to do? How are you going to do it?”It’s beginning to get dark and starting to sprinkle, and Ben’s passengers are growing anxious. Kathryn Gagyi, Chris’s girlfriend, is starting to look like the victim in all of this. “When do we consider leaving the car and walking to find a real road?” she asks, shivering with her hands pulled inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Boada isn’t so ready to give up though. He finally decides to inch the Jeep to the side using a lift jack and his own muscle. First he lifts the front end and pushes the jeep toward the side of the path, knocking the lift over as the Jeep falls back to the ground. Only a few inches are gained at most. Then he does the same to the rear end. He does this over and over again. Two of his passengers stand out of the way to the side, waving sticks through the air because they don’t know how to help. Boada is off by himself and wouldn’t need it anyway. It takes him some time, but he finally gets the right side tires onto solid ground. After that, getting through the last few feet of the drift is no problem.The last decision is what to do next. Boada can make a tight turn and go back the way he came, hopefully having made enough of a path to avoid getting stuck again. Or he can try to go through the next drift that would lead to a way out. But it is bigger and looks much deeper than the one that just held him up for over an hour.In the end, Boada decides the only logical thing to do is turn and go back. It takes a few minutes and a lot of backing up to try again, but Boada makes it back through the two snowdrifts.By now, even with the time change of the previous night, the last of the dusky light has faded into night. Boada’s headlights aren’t quite enough to see the uneven terrain, so he flips on the powerful lights he has installed on the roof to illuminate the forest. The passengers are tossed about inside as Boada carves the Jeep through deep ruts and over large boulders. But Boada seems unaffected by the bumps. He stays calm, both hands on the wheel, as if he is making an ordinary drive down a paved road.Once he is back on the main road, Boada turns the overhead lights off, and his headlights seem insufficient on the rain-soaked road. He drives slowly, afraid he might have damaged his driveshaft. “I’ve still never broken anything,” he says with the pride of a basketball player who goes his entire career without injury. Back at his apartment, Boada touches the Jeep affectionately on his way inside. It is an extension of him. But his hands shake noticeably, abandoning the calm that he displayed in the woods. He and his Jeep have escaped again, but they both wait for the next ride.