I made it as far as the Refinery at Jamestown NM, before I decided to pull into the Pilot Truck Stop and get some sleep. The high desert can get very cold by September, especially at four in the morning, but I had no trouble drifting off once I crawled in the back and got both sleeping bags situated. The morning sun cut through the fog in my head, and I found myself wide awake by 7:45. The strenuous activity of the day before, combined with the long drive, my age, weight, and bone chilling cold sleeping conditions, meant that, even though my head was ready to go, my body was stiff, sore, and reluctant to move. I used my hips and shoulders to shuffle towards the back of the bed until I had my knees drawn up and my feet touching the canopy door, I used my left foot to push the door out and up until it was open enough for the air assist arms to rotate it fully open and out of the way. I rolled onto my stomach and pushed my legs out of the bed until I could bend one in an attempt to find the truck bumper, this maneuver is a little painful because the tailgate sits a little higher than the carpeted plywood that forms the bed. I found the bumper first with my left leg, but as soon as I began to transfer weight onto it, I felt a twinge in my hamstring, so I pulled it back up and used the right to search for a spot. I found the bumper with my right foot, then extended my arms to lift myself off the bed, and I began walking my arms back, pushing myself out of the truck. I was hoping to get far enough back that I could see a place on the bumper or trailer tongue to land my left foot without ripping the 7 way plug out like I had done on a previous trip. Suddenly, my right foot slipped off the bumper, and the entirety of my weight crashed down across the exposed edge of the tailgate. I landed on my belly button area and it knocked all the breath out of me, I was flailing my arms and legs about, trying to gain a leverage point like an insect crushed to a windshield. Somehow I ended up curled up on my knees, on the ground, alongside the right side of the trailer tongue, sucking in air for all I was worth and clutching my stomach in both hands; I have no recollection of how I managed to get there. I shuffled off to the truck stop bathroom to clean myself up and inspect the damage. There were dark bruises already forming, but my real fear was a hernia, those types of injuries are no joke for a large man in his fifties, and I've seen quite a few friends suffer through the required pre-op weight loss, the surgery, and the lengthy recovery.
I looked in the mirror as I splashed water on my white, blood drained face. "You sir, are a clumsy idiot", I smiled at myself, but the obvious pain prevented any attempt at laughter.

I pulled into Rip Griffin's in Moriarty NM, three hours later, and pumped twenty-three gallons into the '93. I hadn't ate all day, but the aching pain in my gut more than quelled any feelings of hunger or appetite. Two hours later I arrived in Tucumcari NM. and even though it was only 1 in the afternoon, I felt like crap. It was one hour until our fantasy draft was to start, and I decided I would have better luck on the laptop than my phone, so I pulled into a nearly empty La Quinta Inn parking lot to see if they allowed an early check-in. I got a room, set up the laptop, and prepared for my draft as the clock clicked down. As I suspected, I struggled with the laptop, compared to my home PC, and I always seemed to be thirty seconds behind the draft board as the rounds clicked off. With that out of the way, I took a long, hot shower, then dressed in fresh clothes, and found a restaurant within walking distance. I was asleep by 4:30, but wide awake by 8:30 with no idea what to do next. While it seemed wasteful, I decided to check out and get back on I-40 East to continue my journey.