Day became night once more and we were still driving. It got later and later, and we seemed to get further and further from anything remotely resembling civilization.
At some point in there, I think our tired brains registered that the last city we passed was many, many miles back, and the next service station was still many in the distance.
And then, it rang out. The most ungodly sound a traveler on a desolate Wyoming road, miles from anything, could ever hear.
The ‘bing’ of the gas meter, telling us we were nearly out.
That sound has always had the ability to incite extreme panic in me, even when driving in populated urban centres. Which is nothing compared to the all-encompassing wall of despair that I hit upon hearing it then.
Luckily, I managed to conceal my terror relatively well, and the guys didn’t seem to think it was that big a deal.
We decided to hunt for a gas station.
Alex pulled the car off the highway at the first exit we found. This did nothing to alleviate my growing terror. The exit we chose could have been from any horror film on the market. A desolate road, with a small (seemingly deserted) town a little further on (no doubt harboring psychotic, machete wielding cannibal serial killers, waiting for fresh meat to enter their death trap of a town).
I think at this point, someone suggested knocking on a door to ask where we could find some gas, but in my fright induced panic (I was sure that I was going to die here) I think I ‘calmly’ suggested that we get back on the damn highway and find a truck stop or gas station at which to fill up.
Most likely sensing that I was about to have a full-scale psychological breakdown if we didn’t get out of death-town soon, the guys agreed.
Unfortunately, as it turns out, truck stops in Wyoming only have diesel fuel. And some gas stations apparently don’t work after 2:00 am. We visited three different gas stations, each time to be thwarted in our attempted to find fuel. We even knocked on the doors of sleeping truck drivers (a dangerous pastime, to be sure) to ask if THEY had any gas. No such luck.
In an act of sheer desperation, Alex finally called a towing company (one of the drivers was kind enough to give us the number). They told us that apparently, for our model of car, we could get at least 60 miles after the gas light came on. We remembered passing a full service station several miles back. It was a gamble and it would take us backwards on our journey, but it was probably our only hope of not being eaten by psychopathic townsfolk. We decided to go for it.
It was at this point that I fell asleep. Somehow, even though I was sure that I was in mortal danger, I managed to pass out for the remainder of our gas-finding adventure.
All I know is we did eventually end up finding gas and in a cloud of happy relief, we set off once again on our epic journey.
Some hours later, the decision was made to stop for the night. This time at a real service station, with lights and everything! The threat of freezing to death was still there, but at least rescuers would be able to see our frozen bodies when they found us.
Miraculously, we survived (huzzah!) and woke up to a very cold, desolate kind of morning. But as we continued to drive we discovered how wickedly beautiful Wyoming can be:
After stopping to take some pictures (at which point Jer started doing handstands, losing his brand new camera in the process) we got back in the car for the final stretch.
From that point on, it was relatively straight forward. We just kept driving down the I-80 until we got to Utah.
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