Three miles down the road, he was pulled over on the shoulder at an odd angle with his lights shut off. "Why in the heck would he pull over to wait on us, when he is the one constantly slowing us down", I asked myself as I simply drove on by. As I expected, his headlights came on, and he pulled out to follow me. I kept looking in the mirror, and he continued to maintain my pace, but about a half a mile behind me. Ten miles or so later we passed a well lit service area in the center, with a gas station, and a McDonalds, but I had the bit in my teeth now, and wasn't about to stop. Five miles later, I was climbing a long hill, and glanced in the rear view mirror to see nothing but pitch darkness, not a single set of headlights behind me for miles. I pulled out my cell phone, 3:02 AM, "Boone, where are you guys?" They had all stopped in the service area, Dale needed fuel, and they were searching for E-85, as the jugs they filled when they left Tulsa were all but empty, and the Dakota continued to guzzle it at an alarming rate. I successfully navigated my way off the Turnpike at exit 71 and onto Kansas 254 West. I drove about 8 miles looking for the next turn to the left on Chico street, but according to the route sheet I should have been there already, so I pulled over, shut the car off and dug out my free Harbor Freight flash light. I swear it was "Chico" driving down the road at forty, holding the sheet up next to the fifty-two year old dome light, but now, on the side of the road in good light, I realized I was looking for "Ohio" Street, which I found easily after back tracking three miles!
Ohio street led me into the town of Augusta Kansas around seven miles later, and according to the route sheet we had covered 125 miles at this point, which is nearing the end of my comfort zone on fuel range, so I found a gas station in a large grocery store parking lot and pulled in to fill up. I had a couple of gallons in the cell when a young police officer pulled up next to the pump beside me. The next instructions on the sheet were a bit cryptic, so I just asked him how to catch US-77 south from where we were. "Uhh, yeah, just go down here until you see the car wash on the left, and then turn right. That's main street, then go a couple of blocks to Osage, turn left on that, then right on seventh, and you will run right into it!" I thanked him, finished pumping my 91, and headed off in that direction. I was glad to have the help, because "Main Street" wasn't at all what I expected. I turned right onto a wide street made up of massive concrete slabs, cracked, sealed, and re-sealed, driving across them felt like they were surely several feet thick, the side walks were elevated above the road level, and the yards rolled up towards the houses which were elevated even more. The large, ancient homes were dwarfed by the huge trees that lined the roadway, their canopies nearly touching above me as I idled by. "Great place for a horror movie", I thought to myself, and was much happier when I emerged onto 77 and wound the small block back up to cruising speed.
