If you haven’t read Wyoming Part 1, I urge you do to so before reading this post. In that last post, I was left stranded on the side of a mountain, my car at a sharp angle to the Earth’s sweet, sweet axis. Not fun stuff, but definitely funny.
All my friend Mana and I had to bail ourselves out of this snow jail was my poop shovel, which they assured me was no shovel at all, but a small trowel. Walmart lied to me.
Anyway, it was pretty hopeless from the start, but it definitely got worse thanks to two guys who showed up in their truck. To be fair, they were there to help. When they got there, the first thing they did was make it worse. They hooked up my car to theirs and tried to pull it out, to no avail. My car fell deeper off the road and into more problematic snow bank-yness. Next, they tried to drive behind us to pull Betty out from behind. Half-way into this feat two Florida girls are stuck in a Buick on the side of a snow bank, and two guys from Wyoming are stuck in a truck on the other side.
But they had a shovel.
With our powers combined (their shovel, my small axe, and my small poop trowel), we managed to free their truck from the snow in about four hours. Betty the Buick was still stuck. We tried once more to tow her from the depths and this time the tow line broke. They managed to scrounge up another tow line from their truck and we were finally free.
I was taken out for a drink by the guy who owned the truck later that evening in celebration. This proved to be the least fun moment of my life.
I’m writing this post-Wyoming at a desk in a computer lab I’ve been at for the last 12 hours, so bear with me. This part of the story telling will be quick and glossy.
The guy with the truck, lets call him Dan, I learned trapped in his car, was a Trump-supporting, gun-range manager with a silencer equipped to a 22′ in the middle seat when he picked me up. He believed Democrats have been hiring high schoolers with large sums of money to shoot up their schools. He didn’t let me out of the car when I asked, he didn’t drive me home when I asked, and so the story goes.
But I’m safe and sound now. That’s all I will say. Also this: I have been pretty reckless in my short life. I’ve maybe been places alone I should not have been going alone and doing things I should not have been doing. To non-cis non-white non-men: please be careful. Learn from other people’s mistakes and know you are not invincible. Not everyone you meet traveling is friendly for the right reasons.
Anyway, while I was doing that, Mana was skydiving and then we parted ways and I was back on the road West. I was supposed to stay for a few more days, but I needed the road after Wyoming.
I drove very far after that date. I needed to gather control again. I gained it back in miles. I drove until my eyes left me blinded by the road and I was forced to pull over in a town I don’t remember in a state I can’t recall. Immediately leaving the highway were trucks: big, towering semis. They lined the exit I left the highway for, they lined the streets after that, and they filled the gas station parking lot I eventually squeezed my car into to sleep.
As soon as I woke, as soon as the sun rose, I was back on the road. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to do anything else. I just wanted to feel the road beneath me and see the scenes pass by as quickly as possible. I wanted to put distance in between myself and Wyoming.
Well I ran out of gas in the middle of a dessert, I was in this desert for some time now, and before I had told myself to get gas, but I was impatient to stop. My ticker said I had maybe 20 miles left. I don’t know, it’s very unbelievable. Probably had less. Oh, there was no one on this road, too, as per my usual luck. I turned off anything that could use up my gas: air conditioning, music, car lights (not a smart move). I rolled up the windows for proper aerodynamics. It was not a comfortable temperature in my car. I screamed songs at the top of my lungs the whole way, going 20-30 miles per hour and before I had ran out of breath I coasted my poor car in the gas pump 30 miles away. Let me tell you: I was literally coasting to that pump. I was so happy I made it that on my way out I tailgated a guy on the highway and got pulled over for it.
I made it to California that day.