May was so tired when she saw the pitiful little gas station out in the middle of the desert, that to her, after miles and miles of no gas, no food and no restroom, it was an oasis. In her mind's eye it had palm trees and enormous tents filled with soft rugs and fruits and delicacies of every description.
The reality was a dilapidated shack and two gas pumps out in front. In place of a handsome sheik, coming out of the screen door to pump her gas was a tall, thin guy of indeterminate age with no smile on his weather lined face. Both he and the stark scenery of Highway 50 seemed to say if you can't tough it out crossing Nevada then maybe you shouldn't be there.
"I guess you'll be wanting some gas," he said in a tone that didn't guarantee that there was any. "I speck there's enough to fill your car, but just barely. A big truck came through here and almost pumped us dry."
"Yes, please and some food and your bathroom," May replied. She fervently hoped that there was enough gas. She couldn't spend the night in her car parked outside the filthy garage wondering where this strange man would be in the middle of the night.
"Outhouse is out back and you'll find some chips and sody inside, candy too if you're a mind."
She found the outhouse and was grateful in spite of the primitive services. She felt better with gas in her car and a Coke, some chips and two candy bars. When she paid him, he also softened slightly and wished her a good trip. He promised she would have enough gas to get to Utah. She'd still be in the desert, but a little closer to civilization. She sighed and then smiled. The moonscape of Nevada wasn't going to take her this time. She was on the road again.
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