Wyoming was mostly a three-hour pass-through state on my agenda, but I made it a thrill by playing chicken with the empty gas light on my rental for about 30 miles of wheel-gripping anxiety between spread out towns, imagining how long it might take me to walk the remaining distance if it died and whether I had enough water. Rolled down a lot of hills and into a station in neutral. But hey, that’s how you remember where you’ve been. That, and the mass of grasshoppers.
