dare2go

The Middle Of Nowhere, Texas Style


We left Van Horn reasonably early so we could get as close to Tucson as possible that day. The question was asked about whether we should refuel, but we thought we'd be ok as we have 2 fuel tanks and thought we were only on the first one. Somewhere along the road I felt the car running out of fuel, and confidently flicked the switch onto the second tank. I'd already done this a couple of times, so had no doubt that it would kick in immediately, and we'd drive on losing only a few km/h in speed during the changeover. However, the speed kept decreasing and we both started with the "oh, no". I pulled over on the side of the road and we got out. We both accepted that we had run out of fuel in one of the most desolate parts of America.
First we tried the mobile phone - of course, no reception!!! There was plenty of traffic, since we were driving on the I-10 (because there is really no alternative), but the speed limit is 75mph, and the majority of the traffic is semi-trailers, which definitely don't want to stop when going that speed - or more. We opened the bonnet (hood) to look like we had broken down and I stood at the rear of the truck, trying to look desperate, and watched a lot of vehicles 'fly' past. When that particular technique drew no response, I started waving madly every time a smaller vehicle drove past. They all seemed to keep flying by, with no response. I was beginning to wonder how I could look less like a serial killer and more like a helpless traveller, when I noticed that a late model Jeep had stopped further down the road and was reversing back toward us. The driver offered to help and was sure there was a truck stop within 5 or 10 miles. The next question, should we both go and leave the truck or should one go and one stay? (Now who was worried about serial killers or other assorted crazies???) We (I think that was really 'I') decided that we should both go and leave the truck. We headed down the road with our rescuer, and within 2 miles arrived at the truck stop. Had we known, we might have started to walk!
We walked into shop and spoke to the attendant, explaining our situation, and asking for AAA help. No AAA out here but he sent us outside to talk to 'the guy in the red shirt'. 'The guy in the red shirt' turned out to be Mexican, with a limited, but adequate, grasp of english (our spanish needs a lot of work!). He had to go and unload some tyres, but would then be back to help us. So we waited, used the Restrooms, where I found a sign telling me I was in the 'middle of nowhere, Tiger Town, Texas' - I already knew the first part! We bid our rescuer goodbye. He shook both our hands, saying "Jesus loves you" to each of us, and wandered off toward his car saying, "Remember Jesus is all you need". I suppressed the desire to add, "and diesel" and instead replied, "He was today!".

The 'shop' itself was worth exploring, which we did during our wait for 'the man in the red shirt': in seemingly unordered shelves you could find groceries, hardware and tools, truck brake drums, painkilllers, toothbrushes, gun holsters, Texan hats, very kitschy mexican souvenirs, leather jackets, and typical travel needs like soft drinks, biscuits and chips - all covered in a layer of desert dust...
When we had first stopped, Juergen had said, this is going to cost us a lot! As usual, he was proved to be absolutely correct. 'The guy in the red shirt' came back and, through the attendant, told us it was going to cost us a $50 call-out fee and a minimum of 2 hours at $70 per hour plus a mileage cost of almost $2, plus the diesel. This sounded just a bit excessive to me and I said so. They suggested I talk to 'the boss'. I went in the direction of the office, knocked on the door and entered.
'The boss' turned out to be a very old Texan, complete with the requisite hat. I explained my situation to him and questioned the need for a 2 hour minimum charge. He intimated that since we were way out here he could basically charge what he liked, but not in so many words. After some further discussion he magnanimously agreed to waive the mileage charge - once he realised it was only about 2 miles - and also that we should pay only a 1 hour minimum charge. After much more waiting, 'the man in the red shirt' was finally ready and invited us to get into his truck for the ride out to ours. It had a single bench seat which was covered with various engine parts and the associated grease and dirt. So, with grease covered clothes, we reached our destination.
He proceeded to fill the rear tank with fuel because that was the one we were switched to. After less than a minute, he said that it was full. I couldn't see how because it takes about 14 gallons and he had poured less than a gallon in. We looked over his shoulder and, sure enough, I had understood him correctly. At this point we started to feel not quite so stupid!!! He suggested that maybe the switch was faulty, put the rest of the 5 gallon container in the front tank and got the car started.
We drove on to the 'middle of nowhere, Tiger, TX', and filled the front tank with the most expensive tank of diesel that I hope we ever have to buy! We are currently just relying on the front tank, until we have the time to leave the car to have the problem checked out and fixed.