On a dark desert highway…

So. Yeah. Where to start.

Between Winnemucca and Battle Mountain, NV

No one really WANTS a coal plant in their back yard. Fortunately, there’s a LOT Of empty space in Nevada. In one such location, there is a coal power plant. I was there last week. With a head cold. Teaching Sharepoint. Love the people, hate trying to get there. Because it either involves directly DRIVING from Las Vegas for 7 hours. Through deserted desert.

OR you can fly to Reno, and then rent you a car and drive the three hours east.

Ya’ll, I gotta say. Sumbitches must have REALLY wanted to get to California because between the Mohave and the Great Basin deserts, this little pioneer would have turned her happy little ass back around and stayed in Denver. Or St. Louis.

Rental Car agency gave me a Jeep Compass. Funny enough, this is what I got in Seattle last month when jetting up for the day for the cousin’s wedding. Here is photo of said vehicle:

Jeep Compass POS model

For those of you keeping score, yes, this would be an SUV. With the typical shitty gas mileage that one gets with an American SUV.  Mother frakers claim that some of the models get 27-29 MPG highway. The MFs LIE. Or I had a four wheel drive version, which is possible because it is ski country and ski season in reno. Regardless, you’d think that it would have more than a 13.8 Gallon fuel tank. Alas, poor Yorrick….

So there’s a stretch of Interstate 80 where there is 60 miles between gas stations. Do you see where I am going with this yet? So while I left the plant, some 200 miles from the airport, with half a tank of gas, I failed to recognize the conseqences of my decision at the time. It was pretty. I had satellite radio. I was sick.

And I might have been screwing around on the drive….

So you can imagine my horror when I was about 20 miles PAST the last gas station when the gas light came on. With 40 miles to go to the next one. There were lots and lots of bad words.

 

I made it. Almost. Less than two miles to the gas station in Fernley, NV, my engine died and I coasted off to the side of interstate 80. It was about 38 degrees outside and dark. As I picked up the cell phone to call the rental car company (holy crap, it costs 70$ for them to bring you gasoline. WTF? So much for that “corporate agreement” contract bullshit.), a noticed a pick up truck on the dirt service road off to my right. A man hopped out, waded throug sagebrush, climbed the barbed wire fence and walked over to my car, where semi’s were wailing past me at 80+ mph. He wanted to make sure I was OK. (And perhaps kill me?)

 

Anyway, he told me he worked just up the road, and not to worry – he’d run up and get me some gas and be back in about 15 minutes. And he did. (Note: I did make my boss stay on the phone with me the whole while, and gave him a thorough description of rescuer and his truck incase i “disappeared”). My Hero brought back a 5 gallon can of gas, and proceeded to fill my tank (which was on the highway side of the car). He wouldn’t take any money, and I made sure to get his name and give him my business card. He texted me the next day to make sure I got home ok. So, George Hamilton, outside of Fernley, NV – you are a rock star. I made my flight, and was none the worse for wear because of my own stupidity.

 

There are good people out there, folks. It was so nice to be reminded.