There are some things you're taught as a kid that don't make a great deal of sense at the time, but have a funny way of becoming more important the older you get.
Some are lessons you learn the hard way; others are passed down by people who've been around long enough to know what they're talking about. And occasionally, if you're lucky, someone teaches you something so valuable that it shapes the way you look at things for the rest of your life.
I was fortunate enough to have a couple of those people around when I was growing up.
I was knee-high to a grasshopper when I was first introduced to 4X4'ing, and I was taken under the wings of two absolute red-hot wheelers. These blokes knew their way around a 4X4 and, more importantly, they understood the culture that surrounded them.
Of all the things they could've taught me about wheeling, the very first lesson had nothing to do with driving.
It was that you never, ever judged another person's vehicle or the way they'd chosen to build it.
It didn't matter whether it was a LandCruiser, Patrol, Suzuki or something nobody could quite identify. It didn't matter whether the owner had spent a fortune on it or cobbled it together in the shed over a few weekends. You respected it.
To them, passing judgement on another person's pride and joy was something no genuine wheeler should ever do. It was almost a sacred rule, and one they took pretty seriously.
Looking back, I'm bloody glad that was my introduction to the 4X4 community.
Because without the preconceived ideas about what made a good 4X4, I got to appreciate an extraordinary variety of vehicles for what they were.
Some were beautifully engineered; others were wonderfully unconventional. There were vehicles built on shoestring budgets that could go just about anywhere, and others that represented years of work, experimentation and ingenuity.
I didn't look at them wondering why the owner hadn't bought something else. I wanted to know how they'd built them, what they'd changed and what they'd discovered along the way.
And I learnt an enormous amount because of it.
Fast-forward a couple of decades, and I sometimes wonder what's happened to that attitude.
Now, I'm not suggesting vehicle rivalries are anything new. Toyota and Nissan owners have been giving each other grief for longer than I've been alive, and I reckon a bit of friendly banter is one of the great Australian traditions.
But there's a difference between taking the piss out of your mate's Patrol and genuinely looking down on someone because of what they drive.
Spend five minutes in the comments section of almost any 4WD-related social media post and you'll see exactly what I mean.
Apparently, buying a LandCruiser means you've paid too much, buying a Chinese 4X4 means you've made a terrible mistake, and modifying anything outside the accepted formula is grounds for public ridicule.
And I can't help but wonder what we're actually achieving.
Wheeling has always been something of a fraternity. A community of people brought together by a shared interest in getting out, exploring the country and occasionally finding ourselves in situations that require a bit of help from one another.
The vehicle was simply what got us there.
And while I certainly have my own preferences these days, years of travelling Australia and driving all sorts of different vehicles have only reinforced that early lesson.
There isn't one perfect 4X4, nor is there one correct way to build one.
What works for a bloke towing a three-and-a-half-tonne caravan around Australia might be completely unsuitable for someone tackling the Victorian High Country every weekend.
And what one person considers an unnecessary modification might be the very thing that makes another person's vehicle fit for purpose.
Of course, that doesn't mean we shouldn't question poor engineering, unsafe modifications or whether a particular vehicle is genuinely suitable for the job. Constructive criticism and informed discussion are valuable, particularly in an industry where bad advice can have serious consequences.
But questioning a decision and belittling the person who made it are two very different things.
I reckon that's a distinction worth remembering.
Because if those two blokes had spent my childhood telling me which vehicles were rubbish and which ones were worth respecting, I would have definitely missed out on meeting some incredible people, seeing some remarkable builds and learning a great deal about four-wheel driving.
Instead, they taught me to be curious before being critical.
And after all these years, I still reckon that's one of the best lessons anyone could've given me.
4X4'ing is supposed to bring people together. It's a community and, in many ways, a family.
It would be a shame if we became so preoccupied with the badges on our grilles that we forgot what brought us together in the first place.
Catch you on the tracks,
Josh Leonard
The adventure starts where the bitumen ends
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