Real adults don’t forget oil changes, and I was a real adult wearing a tye-dye t-shirt with elephant pants in the lobby of a Jiffy Lube. Reading a book in the corner, I waited until the man behind the desk said my car was ready to go.

“Did you know there were two rats living under the hood?” he asked, when I handed him my debit card. I blushed, because no, of course not.

Real adults look under the hood of their cars.

“We cleared out the nests and all the poop,” the man behind the counter said. Unable to stifle my laughter, I thanked him, got in the car and pulled up the maps to a free campsite in the middle of Nevada. Already three hours into the drive with the sun setting, I would get to the campsite around 1:00 a.m.

The speed limit in Nevada is 80 mph, which means most people pass me at 90 mph, flipping me off for going so slow.

Little towns appear out of nowhere as speed traps. Driving through the dusty desert at 84 mph and slamming on my breaks when it suddenly drops to 25 mph through a three building town. Casino, old bricks, and back to the highway.

I got to “the campsite” after midnight and kept on driving. What a website told me was a chill place to park and sleep for the night looked more like a chill place to get murdered. The “campsite” was a two car parking lot next a single bathroom, spray painted with skulls and red dripping letters. A dangling street light kept flickering on and off, with miles of pitch black desert stretching out in every direction. The bathroom door was unhinged at the top and leaning haphazardly in the doorway.

No way in hell I’m sleeping there.

I kept driving into the wee hours of the night now with no destination in mind and no cell phone service to look up the next best option.

Blue lights startle me so I slam on the brakes. Is that cop coming for me? Shit!

Quickly I scan the seats for any remnants of weed and throw a sweater over the passenger seat, which is full of trash and snacks. I don’t want it to look like I’m living in the car, even though I am. Why was I being pulled over, anyway?

I don’t remember what the officer looked like. I do remember the way I felt. Tense, scared, and small. I don’t remember what the officer said first. I do remember his tone was harsh when he told me I was speeding. I don’t remember seeing a speed limit sign. I do remember the officer telling me that I was in 25 mph zone and I was driving 80 mph. He said it with the same venom that he would say, “You just ran over a baby.”

I’m fucked. Surely he’ll give me a ticket.

The officer took my license and his shoulders dropped. His eyes softened and he looked up at me with a smile. Oh god he’s going to rape me.

“Your birthday is in three days,” the officer said, and I nodded. Eyes bulging with fear.

“We have the same birthday!” he announced, and he let me go without a ticket. He warned me to be careful and watch out for those sudden speed changes. He wished me a happy birthday and said he hoped I was spending it with loved ones. He wished me a safe travels back to Virginia.

The justice system is fucked up. But today, it’s in my favor. I’ll take it.

Back on the highway. Shove a handful of goldfish in my mouth. It’s past 3 a.m. now and I still don’t have cell phone service to look up where to go. My ass hurts from sitting in the car too long. My eyes hurt from staring at the road too long. Nevada is full of nothing. I keep passing signs that say NO SERVICES FOR 75 MILES and they mean it. There’s nothing. Not a gas station, house, campground, or hotel. Just pavement stretching though a black night.

Blind hills abound in Nevada, with crests that look like they’re shooting up into the Milky Way and never return to earth. But the road continues down the hill, out of sight to the driver until you make it to the very top. As I approached the top of a blind hill going 75 mph, I could see a shadow at the top. Is that an animal? Squinting my eyes as I got closer, the shape got bigger. And it wasn’t moving. Is that a dead animal laying in the road?

Lights from the other side of the hill appeared as I was inches from cresting the top of the hill. The shape laying in the middle of the road got bigger and bigger and bigger until oh fuck!

Swerving saved my life. A semi truck met me at the top of the hill and swerved at the same time. I’ve never been in sync more with a trucker. If he hadn’t swerved at the exact same time as I did, we both would have hit the step ladder that was straddling the yellow strip across the highway. If the trucker had hit that ladder into me, I would’ve been a goner.

Past 4:00 a.m. now. I need to sleep now or I’m going to die driving. I pull over and park on a strip of pavement inches from the highway, nuzzling my Hyundai Sonata in between several semi-trucks.

These truckers are either going to rape and kill me, protect me, or leave me alone.

Hoping for the latter, I crawled into the back seat and sprung into my nightly routine. Move the double decker plastic drawers into the driver’s seat. Roll down each window a smidgen, dangle the ends of a scarf out and roll it shut. Curtains to keep the creeps from watching me sleep.

Gather all twelve hula hoops in a bundle and toss it over the drawers and steering wheel. Gather up the rogue sweaters and stuff them into a ball for a big fluffy pillow. Finally I’m able to prop my feet up on my suitcase, as if I were laying in a hammock.

Huff and puff, close my eyes, and pray that no weirdo comes a knocking.

…

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Eyes wide open. The sound of boots on gravel stop just outside the passenger side door. Then, I hear nothing. Maybe I made it up. I listen for another few minutes and brush it off. Close my eyes.

Crunch, crunch, crunch…but now near the trunk. My fingers slide down the seat, feeling for the hilt of the knife in the kitchen box. Pulling it out from under the spatulas in slow motion. I want that creep to think I’m asleep and go away. I try to remain silent, listening for-

Crunch, crunch, crunch right next my head! I don’t waste a second. My hand is on the door knob, I’m lunging out of the car, I’m screaming like a mad woman, I wielding a knife! Staring into the eyes of a donkey.

A donkey…what the fuck? I slouch and stop screaming. Hoping I didn’t wake any curious creepy truckers, I duck behind my car and inspect the donkey. Cute fella, big eyes, small. Glancing around, I don’t see a fence, yard, or trailer it could have escaped from.

Who’s donkey is this?

The donkey didn’t flinch when I jumped out causing a ruckus, he just lifted his head and chewed slowly on the sage in his mouth.

“Okay…goodnight,” I say, shrugging. Turning my back on the donkey, getting back into my car, propping my feet up on my suitcase and falling fast asleep.

When I wake up the next morning three truckers are outside some hundred feet away from my car, looking but not staring my way. When I started moving the drawers back into the backseat and pulling all the scarves off the window, the truckers looked over, hoping to catch a glimpse of some gypsy.

Keys in the ignition and back on the highway in six succinct seconds. I’m still in Nevada. I’m exhausted, but I’m alive.

Two miles later I pass the first town I’ve seen in hours, with hotels I could’ve stayed at. But I’m glad I didn’t spend the money. Not checking the map, I miss my turn and end up in Death Valley National Park by accident. I learn that there are such a thing as wild donkeys.

They’re called burros, and they’re apparently everywhere out here.

Six years later, I revisited that lonely highway through Nevada. The memory flooded back to me when I drove past that strip of pavement off the side of the highway that I slept in. I saw the semi-trucks parked there again, and busted out laughing.

“I slept there,” I said to Ian, pointing out the window.

“Why?” he asked. Looking at the GPS, we were three minutes away from a free campsite. One minute past that parking lot was a town. Three minutes past that parking lot was a dirt road that led to wonderfully free, safe, and beautiful camping.

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