I just got the 914 running again last week and have started driving it to work while my brother has my daily driver (his car is in the body shop). It's about a 6 mile, city commute to work... very boring, so I decided I wanted to go up to the mountains last night; Rim of the World, specifically. I left about 8:30 at night and headed up the hill with the top off towards Crestline. I got only slightly lost in Lake Gregory and got to the top okay. I stopped and looked at the city lights for a bit, inspected my car some, and put the top back on.
But then, just as I was about to leave, these 3 guys pulled up and one asked me where to find Mojave Resort on Hwy 173. I said no, and that I wasn't from up there, but I do know where 173 was and they weren't even close. I wanted to show them on my Thomas guide how lost they were, but for some reason it wasn't in the car. He said he'd been there once before during the day, but he didn't drive and wasn't really paying attention to how to get there. This time he was trying to find it in the dark to meet some friends, and he apparently got some really crappy directions. Add to that, they told me that they live in Bell CA, which is about 50 miles from where we were, so they didn't know their way around at all.
So I asked him to describe the place to me. He said that it wasn't at all like where we were stopped. It was pretty flat and there weren't any big pine trees. Well that narrowed it down to the part of 173 that was about 25 miles away and I knew there was no way I could give them directions and trust them not to get lost. Mind you, this is at 10:00 pm in the middle of a pitch black mountain community that they didn't know. So I told them to follow me. I had to make a conscious effort to drive slow because I didn't want them to kill themselves trying to keep up. So I wiggled them down the hill below the tree line, and all the while they were probably wondering where the hell I was taking them. I stopped just before we got to 173 and asked them to describe the specific 'resort' they were looking for as there's really nothing out on that road but ranches and the occasional fishing supply store. Turns out, they were looking for a camp ground that's called 'Mojave Forks', and I knew exactly where that was. They followed me to the campground, as I was headed that way anyway, and stopped.
They said that that was the right place and that they couldn't tell me how much they appreciated it. I took the liberty of giving them very simple directions for next time. They asked if there's anything they could do to repay me; they offered me beer. I told them I don't drink, but just to be the first help someone else out when they need it and it'll come back around.
It's kinda crazy though, that I was the guy that they found. I mean, they were lucky that they found anyone at all at that time of night, but the route that we took back was right on the way back to my hometown. If they had found someone that lived up in the mountains, they wouldn't know what 'resort' that they were talking about down in the desert. If they did, they would've given directions and not taken them down. And if those guys would have continued in that cobbled up mess of roads up there in the dark, they likely wouldn't have found their way out 'till morning. (Toast knows what I'm talking about) My dad tells some similar stories as he rides motorcycles recreationally, but this is the first time anything like that has ever happened to me. It must be something about stopping on the side of the road a lot. You meet all kinds of people in the middle of all sorts of adventures. It just made me feel good that I was able to help someone. It made my stupid little drive something meaningful. Just thought I'd share.
Mark D.

Good to hear someone helping the 914 name.

Good job bro.