Yay Triple-A

If you're going to run out of gas, you might as well really complete the experience: run out of gas in the middle of Death Valley.

Okay, fine, technically we weren't in Death Valley, just a part of the Mojave Desert. But the story's better with something like "Death Valley" in it, so let's just run with it, shall we?

Just made my first visit to Las Vegas for a Lightwheel company retreat, during which we spent a full day planning strategy, saw two shows (one of them brilliant), and further enriched the casino at the MGM Grand. I'm sure I'll tell more stories about this in the next few days. But on the way back, we had our opportunities to get gas. In Vegas itself, and a couple times along the road. But of course we had the thought that everyone has: "Ah, no problem, we can get to the next rest stop easy."

But as the miles rolled on, there was a conspicuous absence of gas stations. And the needle kept dipping lower. We tried to pull off at places that looked like they might just have hidden gas stations, like the Ron Paul Truck Stop (no, really), but they didn't. And about 8 miles northeast of Yermo, California, the car started to chug and shudder. Then the engine went quiet and we coasted to a stop on the shoulder of the I-15.

The Mojave Desert. Just past 1:00 in the afternoon. Hot high clear sun, driving away our former air conditioning in about a minute flat. Outside temperature somewhere above 100. And in the car, Buffie, whose body is not terribly good at regulating heat.

But one thing we did have: cellphones. And AAA cards. Buffie had one, I had one. And before we'd even coasted to a full stop, I already had my new iPhone out and was withdrawing my AAA card to look up the number. The whole thing worked exactly like it's supposed to: they picked up promptly, asked the right questions, and dispatched the call to a towing service in Barstow almost immediately. Barely two minutes after I hung up, someone from Barstow was calling back to point out to me that I'd said we were east of Yermo but the I-15 does not travel east-west but north-south, and which way had we really been driving?

We had a 45-minute wait, and it's nice to point out that there were other options: a call box only a few feet back, and after we'd been there for half an hour we received a visit from a California State trooper, who wanted to be sure we were being taken care of. So really, all we had to do was sit and wait. As Buffie slowly turned redder and redder.

But hey, the guy from AAA got there exactly when they'd said he would, he poured in ten bucks' gas (about a thimble-full), I paid him $20 because I didn't have anything smaller and by gum, saving our lives was worth the tip, and then we were on our merry way again. Half an hour later we were in Yermo, freshly gassed-up and enjoying a nice lunch at Peggy Sue's 50's Diner.

I only became a AAA member a few months ago, after a friend of mine got a flat tire just a couple weeks after he'd allowed his own AAA membership to lapse. And now, this soon, it has paid for itself a dozen times over. Let's hear it for the happy ending.