On a cool summer morning in the Northern Sierra, a few dozen flatfenders lined up in front of the Georgetown Hotel. Excitement was in the air as the sun crested high granite peaks to the east, illuminating the rough-and-tumble foothill settlement. Drivers grabbed a cuppa joe and gathered around for a trail briefing. Their destination was Lake Tahoe, but not via the paved road. Rather, they would traverse an Indian trail through a place known as the Devil’s Playground. Jeepmaster Mark Smith fired up his engine, and like Julius Caesar, led his troops across the Rubicon and into the annals of automotive history.
The year was 1953, and the town’s mining and timber industries had hit the skids. Hotels
