Running out of gas on the interstate is a surreal experience. A marvel of modern engineering becomes an inefficient sled, friction gradually eating away at momentum. The gas pedal becomes useless, like the pedal on a children’s toy. Now add a time constraint: 45 minutes away from our destination with a dinner appointment in two hours. This may seem like the recipe for a crisis, but with the right outlook, it is also an opportunity for adventure.
Step 0: attempt to solve the problem via conventional means. I tried to use web and mobile apps to activate insurance roadside assistance, while Anya called local gas stations and highway patrol. Fifteen minutes later, after many busy signals and technology fails, we had a rescue truck scheduled. The problem: an ETA of 90 minutes. This is when we began to seriously consider other options.
After discussing walking distances to the nearest gas stations in each direction, we had a light bulb moment: there are bikes on the hitch rack! According to google, the nearest gas station is a quick 15 minute ride… starting from the road on the bridge above us. With wide shoulders and a feeder road not far back, this didn’t seem like a major obstacle. We removed the bikes from the rack, installed panniers, walked the bikes off the highway and onto the grass shoulder, and set off for adventure (and gas)!
The ground was soggy and awkwardly sloped, so we walked our way along until it firmed up and found the feeder road. Low traffic, but narrow, so we biked along the edge and found that the road went north – the wrong way! Instead we veered south into the thigh high roadside prairie, only to discover a waist high fence! Luckily no barbs… we took turns going over and lifted the bikes across, and carefully navigated the slope down to West Ridge Rd, our route ‘start point’. Segment one complete.
The bike ride to the gas station was a heart pounding dash, great exercise after five hours in the car. There were actually two gas station on opposite corners – the first had only one gallon gas takes at $10 each, but the second had none. We bought two to balance the panniers, filled up, stuffed the panniers (just barely fit), and started off towards the car. Segment two complete.
On the way back, we decided to try another, faster approach, on the opposite (east) side of West Ridge Rd, hoping to avoid the fence and the long trek around to the feeder road and inconveniently obstructing industrial area. We discovered an even thicker prairie, and a new fence! I was discouraged, but Anya pointed out that she has a cyclocross bike, which is designed for exactly this sort of adventure. We bushwhacked through the prairie with some difficulty, pedals getting caught in tangles of undergrowth, and regretted not bringing the machete. At the fence, we discovered a new challenge – it was chest high, and barbed! Luckily there was a beefy post nearby – Anya carefully climbed over and I handed over her bike. Final bushwhack through a narrow prairie strip and drainage ditch, and she was back about 10 yards east of the car. While she ran back to start filling the car, I carefully lifted my bike over and climbed after it, narrowly avoiding any barb / clothing / flesh interactions. I rushed back, just as a highway patrolman pulled up on the curb behind us. Segment three complete.
I assured the officer that we avoided biking anywhere near the highway on our gas acquisition tour. He gave us directions to the nearest gas station and waited to make sure the car started and we got on our way safely.
We forgot to stop tracking until we made it to the gas station, but that was oddly apropos, here is our track from empty to full gas tank:
Adventure complete, we continued our journey to family dinner… less than an hour late! Lessons learned:
- Always bring the machete. Always.
- Respect the gaslight
- Cyclocross rules