55th Class Reunion on a Two-Wheeled SUV

Dick Fredericksen's Website 55th Class Reunion on a Two-Wheeled SUV

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55th Class Reunion on a Two-Wheeled SUV:

A Two-Wheeled What?

Laying On the Utility

Thinking Small for a Big Trip

Day 1: Tucson to Las Cruces

Day 2: The Road to Santa Rosa

Day 3: Kittycorner to Kansas

Days 4 and 5: Wet Wichita, Sunny St. Joseph

Day 6: This Way to Humboldt

Enjoying Humboldt (Iowa)

Gas Tank Blackjack

The Real Kansas in Technicolor

A Liberal Dose of Memories

Holbrook? How Did We Wind Up In Holbrook?

Painted, Petrified, and Perfect

The Home Home Stretch

Gas Tank Blackjack.

Fast forward now to Day 2 of the return trip. Retracing my steps from Saint Joseph to Wichita, I'm passing Topeka on its beltway. My odometer reads somewhere in the nineties, so maybe I should stop for gas. There are plenty of opportunities, but each of them will require getting off the Interstate, and on again. Why bother? I've already verified that I can get at least 118 miles without a refill, and the reserve will take me beyond that. No doubt the Kansas Turnpike will offer a service area in plenty of time.

So I get on the Turnpike, and then they tell me: "Next Service Area 59 miles". Or was it 51? No matter, it's a stretch either way, but theoretically it's within range. Guess what? At 108 miles, the engine stops and demands to be fed. Now I'm uneasy. Apparently I'm not making my planned 70 miles per gallon. Here I am, running on reserve, and there may be 40 or 50 miles to the service area. I stop to look at a map, and there are some 20-plus miles even to the next exit.

I get off at the exit and ask the toll booth attendant, "Where's the nearest gas station?". She tells me it's in Osage, 11 miles to the east. That's closer than the Turnpike service area, but on a lonelier road. I tell her I may have to get off and push, and she wishes me luck.

The next time I pass this way, I will make the side trip to Osage on purpose. The road is a good one (it had been recently oiled), and the greenery is worth seeing. I make it to the station with three tenths of a gallon to spare, and can enjoy the scenery on the way back.

In retrospect, I think the cause of this fiasco was that I didn't fully top off the tank when I filled it in the morning. I seem to remember one of those pumps with a stiff spring in the handle. You squeeze harder and harder, and finally it jerks from off to full force. This is rather like playing blackjack: as you near the target level, you have to decide whether to play it safe and stop short, or try for an improvement and risk going over the top. I played it safe at the gas station, and then played it risky as I passed all the stations along the Topeka beltway.