12/24/2025
’Twas the night before Christmas, out on the trail,
Not a rig was still moving, not even a snail.
The RTTs were mounted on roof racks with care,
In hopes that St. Overland soon would be there.
The camp chairs were folded, the fire burned low,
Maps tucked in glove boxes, dusted with snow.
With headlamps turned off and stars overhead,
We crawled into sleeping bags, tired to bed.
When out by the trailhead arose such a sound,
I sprang from my cot and unzipped all around.
Away to the lantern I stumbled so quick,
Boots half-laced tight and my jacket zipped thick.
The moon on the desert, the frost on the sand,
Gave a glimmering glow to the tires so grand.
When what to my trail-weary eyes should appear,
But a lifted old rig in low range and clear.
With a grizzled old driver, so steady and quick,
I knew in a moment—St. Overland Nick.
More rugged than reindeer his crew rigs they came
To the top of the ridgeline, through mud, rocks, and pitch—
Now crawl away! Crawl away! Engage front diff switch!”
Like rigs through a wash when the rain starts to pour,
They flexed and they articulated over once more.
So into the campsite the vehicles flew,
With racks full of gear and St. Overland too.
And then, with a crunch of tires on snow,
I heard by the fire the skid plates below.
As I turned all around and was still in my socks,
Down stepped St. Nick with a bag full of parts.
He was dressed all in canvas, from head to his toe,
With grease on his gloves and his boots packed with snow.
A bundle of gear he had slung on his back,
Like a trail-tested guide with a well-used pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His beard, dusty white!
His grin said, “That trail today put up a fight.”
A stump of a cigar, now long since out cold,
And the smell of campfire clung tight, strong, and bold.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his task,
Filled coolers with steaks and a fresh propane flask.
Recovery boards, new shackles, a light,
A solar panel set folded just right.
Then laying a map by the dash with a grin,
He tapped twice on the hood and climbed back within.
He shifted to low, gave a wave with good cheer,
And said, “Keep it dirty—see you next year!”
He rolled down the trail, tires humming just right,
“Merry Christmas to all—and clear trails tonight!” 🎄🚙🌌
Merry Christmas from Dave's Overlanding Adventures!
