Now, the "running-out-of-gas" incident...I awoke around 2 a.m. Chicago time as Ziggy was exiting the interstate somewhere in the middle of Wyoming, around 45 miles west of Laramie. He'd been looking for a gas station for some time...nothing. The exits advised to get off for petrol and we drove right by a dark station, never noticing the closed pumps until we came back through about 3 hours later. Ziggy had his new GPS doohickey. But technology was catching its own tail. His GPS said the next station was 20 miles away, in some place called Red Rock (cue "Blazing Saddles" music). The information indicator on his Toyota said we had 19.1 miles to go before we'd run out of fuel. It was a constant chase to the station, which we passed in the dark of night as we blinked and missed the closed-down town.
We u-turned and went back, knowing Goober and Gomer weren't working but figuring if the inevitable happened we should at least be at a fillin' station and not on a corn-lined highway. Zig called AAA, we took a two-hour nap while we waited, and the guy filled us up with 15 gallons of petrol.
We spent today looking for a place for Terry to rent for the season. It's been slim pickings so far but we'll keep on the case. We stopped and did some shopping and I cooked up some tacos for dinner after Zig confessed he has only turned his stove at home on twice in 9 years. I'm tired now and headed to bed. More tomorrow.