BOSCOBEL — News travels fast in a small town. For Christina Lutz, it was bad news.

In August of last year, Lutz took a call from a family member who’d heard about a four-wheeler accident with a med-flight. Rumor had it that the victim might be Lutz’s boyfriend, Cody Hardy. 

A few frantic phone calls confirmed her fears: Her partner of nine years, the father of her youngest son, was dead of a broken neck. He was 36 years old. 

Hardy, who like Lutz grew up in Boscobel, was one of 32 people in 2023 to lose their life on an off-road vehicle, according to the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources (DNR). 

This year, the death toll is already nearly that high — with the prime off-roading months of fall and early winter still ahead. 

Around the same time that Lutz and family members marked the one-year anniversary of Hardy’s death, the DNR called an emergency press conference with “an urgent safety message to the public.” 

“Most of our crashes are preventable,” Major April Dombrowski, DNR Recreational Safety Section Chief, said at the briefing. She added that DNR wardens and other law enforcement are stepping up patrols between now and the end of the year. 

“We want everyone to return home with these terrific outdoor adventure stories,” she said. “We just need you to leave home with some safety precautions in mind.”

Industry growth

It wasn’t that long ago it seemed like farmers and hunters were the only ones on “all-terrain vehicles” (ATVs, i.e., four-wheelers) and “utility task vehicles” (UTVs, i.e., side-by-sides or gators).

Today, by contrast, an average Friday fish fry at a rural tavern will bring out dozens of off-roaders. 

“Just in the last five years there has been a true explosion in users,” according to Lt. Warden Jacob Holsclaw, DNR Off-Highway Vehicle Administrator. In part that’s due to a rapid increase in two-lane county roads opened to all-terrain traffic, he explained. 

“Some counties have their entire county open other than state or interstate highways,” he said — a decision that’s up to each municipality, not the state. 

“ATVs and UTVs were originally designed to operate on trails and offroad, and the DNR works through local organizations to maintain a trial network and funding throughout the state,” he said. “But ever since the road rules opened up that’s been the explosion in users.”

Nationally, off-roading has experienced similar growth, with an interruption during the pandemic, when manufacturers struggled to keep pace with demand. In 2020, about 700,000 off-road vehicles were sold, most of them in North America, according to trade figures cited in the publication Consumer Affairs. Last year, sales again approached that mark. 

Accident trends

Every year, the DNR collects data for off-road fatalities. Last year, alcohol was a factor in half of the 32 accidents resulting in death. In all but one case, the deceased wore no helmet. 

In non-fatal crashes, these two factors are likewise common — and even short of death, the results can be devastating. 

In August, a Grant County judge found Matthew Wilkinson of Muscoda guilty for his part in an ATV crash that took place in March. 

According to the criminal complaint, Wilkinson drove an ATV while intoxicated in excess of 35 miles per hour and struck a trailer — while his six-year-old son was a passenger. Neither Wilkinson nor his child wore helmets. 

The criminal complaint states that the child suffered a “traumatic brain injury,” had part of his skull removed, and faces “the potential for permanent brain injury.” 

Wilkinson pled no contest to a felony charge of causing injury by the intoxicated use of a vehicle and was sentenced to two-and-a-half years in prison followed by five-and-a-half years of supervised release.

The aftermath

Cody Hardy had been drinking the night he died. 

Lutz said he was well liked for his infectious laugh, his friendly good nature, and his cheerful spirit. But when liquid spirits were involved, things could get out of hand.

“He could go months without drinking,” Lutz said, “but when he did, look out.”

On this day, he finished up his work shift and started partying. At some point, he borrowed a friend’s four-wheeler and took the party to a couple different locations along the Wisconsin River. 

After leaving what turned out to be his last stop, he overturned the rig on a gravel road. He wasn’t wearing a helmet. According to DNR records, his blood alcohol was .20.

“He broke his neck by flipping it,” Lutz said. “They said he died immediately. I asked the coroner when they called me, and they said it was instant.”

A year later, Lutz still struggles with the trauma of the accident. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” she said. 

She’s living with her parents in Lone Rock until she can get a place of her own, and on the back roads around their house, she sees others putting themselves in danger every day. 

“It drives me crazy,” she said. “I see people without a helmet or driving all crazy and I’m like, slow down. You don’t realize how fast something can happen. They think they’re indestructible.”

Hardy’s death was instantaneous. But for those who survive him, the aftershocks will last a lifetime. 

It fell to Lutz to tell their seven-year-old son that his father was gone, and she tries to help him cope with the loss, even as she suffers herself. 

“He don’t talk about it much to me,” Lutz said. “He talks about it to, like, the counselors at school, but he tells me he doesn’t want to see me cry so we don’t talk about it. I hope that someday I’ll be strong enough to be able to talk to him.”