My journey home from Torrey UT in the Spring was 1200 miles and would take 18 hours for someone who would drive straight through. I need 100 stops – at least! – not just for the bathroom, but for some fresh air and a little bit of movement so I can stay alert behind the wheel.

My goal for the first day was to get about half way. But at 600 miles, I still felt ok and was contemplating Baker City, La Grande or Pendleton as my stop for the night. Baker City was coming up too soon so it was either going to be La Grande or Pendleton, which is where I stop on the way down. La Grande was 116 miles away and then Pendleton 50 miles further from where I sat having dinner. Denny’s serves some pretty decent chicken strips BTW.

The server was a woman my age, maybe a bit younger. She was tall and thin as a reed. Her eyes were heavily made up but that was the only make up she wore. She was run off her feet but just lovely and sunshiny and chatty. She told one couple how she was the longest standing staff member there so after her time in prison, it was just easy to come back to the same job. In conversations with another patron she talked about being divorced twice, having filed for bankruptcy twice and said clearly she need life’s lessons more than once. I bet she had some good stories to tell.

Back on the road, I decided Pendleton would be the best destination for the night. It was familiar and would cut an hour off tomorrow’s journey, but La Grande was still plan B if I felt too tired or ran out of daylight. The turn off for La Grande came up and the same sign said Pendleton was 50 miles away. According to my gas gauge, I had enough gas for 65 more miles. Perfect! I felt alert enough and had enough gas to get to Pendleton. Or did I?

As I drove the next 50 miles, those numbers did not go down together. At 30 miles to go, my car promised me 40 more miles in the tank. 20 miles out of Pendleton, the gas light came on and the gauge now promised only 20 miles of gas in the tank. It was looking like maybe I need to stop for gas after all – a bit annoying when I was so close to my destination for the night.

Searching for the next gas station, the closest one was in Pendleton, now 15 miles away with only enough gas to go 16 miles. I was already using cruise control at the speed limited, but slowed another few mph hoping to s-t-r-e-e-e-e-t-c-h the gas mileage.

Up and over one pass, then another, I watched the numbers closely. 10 miles to Pendleton, 10 miles left in the tank. I started to wonder how the car stops when it runs out of gas. Would I be able to limp to the shoulder or would I be dead in the water in the slow lane? Because the gas crisis wasn’t awful enough, I now only had about half hour of daylight left and it started to drizzle.

The distance and the fuel gauge tangoed with my rising anxiety. 5 miles to go and 6 miles left in the tank and the lights of Pendleton came into sight. Surely the 6 miles was a safe guess and there was a little bit of wiggle room? All I needed was a few more miles.

I saw a sign to exit for a casino and as I passed the exit, I saw a second sign saying there was as gas station at that exit. Too late, I was past the exit.

I limped into a gas station outside of Pendleton with my gas range showing 4 miles. Never was I so overjoyed to see a gas station. And now I know how far I can push the envelope on the my gas range – but will plan better to never have to touch that envelope again.