Happily taking in mountain pass vistas, listening to Joni Mitchell and moving right along, I pass “Love” gas station. I look down and see I have a 1/4 tank, perhaps I should have stopped? Hmmm no matter, there will be another exit soon. The sun passes thru the clouds, the wind begins to gust with gusto and a cold drizzle becomes the predominant theme. Blink goes the “get gas icon” and I begin seriously thinking about gas, Garmin tells me if I get off and go back and there will be gas within 2 mi. Guess again Garmin. 10 miles of ghost towns, (that used to have gas) rough roads and it’s dogged insistence on the presence of a Chevron (in an empty field) I started thinking that it’s no surprise that the name of the town is “malheure” (doesn’t that mean “Bad hour”?) Thinking creatively about my options, I pull into “Ben’s truck repair” in hopes of finding gas or a syphon (to suck the gas out of the bug.) Ben eyes me with a mixture of scrutiny and disbelief and offers to charge me 20 bucks an hour + 4.50 a gallon, to go get me some gas. I thank him but say it’s out of my price range & I’d be much obliged to borrow a hose. Taking pity on me, he enlisted his son to do “the dirty work” (while both wife and bookeeper shrieked like banshees about the bug.) In the end, Ben sold me 2 gallons he’d gleened from a mower, I gave them souvenir postcards, and a tin of “Super Strong Manly Mints” to that sweet boy (to take the taste of gas out of his mouth.) He deserved it!
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