The ride across Nebraska on Rt. 80 is flat, predictable, and awe-inspiring. There are acres upon acres of farmland and open space. On the highway, there are trucks and service areas. All very predictable.
Once I crossed into Colorado, though, I had to leave Rt. 80 and take Rt. 76 to head southwest toward Denver and Boulder. I think there should be a warning sign at the entrance on to Rt. 76. Something like: "Be sure you have a full tank of gas, and do not panic. You will not see any signs of habitation for miles, but eventually you will." A sign like that would be reassuring because Rt. 76 is empty. There were a few cars and trucks, which I was glad about, but that was all. Even though I had a half tank of gas, I started to get tense.
Once I crossed into Colorado, though, I had to leave Rt. 80 and take Rt. 76 to head southwest toward Denver and Boulder. I think there should be a warning sign at the entrance on to Rt. 76. Something like: "Be sure you have a full tank of gas, and do not panic. You will not see any signs of habitation for miles, but eventually you will." A sign like that would be reassuring because Rt. 76 is empty. There were a few cars and trucks, which I was glad about, but that was all. Even though I had a half tank of gas, I started to get tense. When I reached the town of Sedgwick and saw a sign for gas, I pulled off the highway. There was a dusty parking lot, a small cafe, a gas station (with a spotlessly clean bathroom) and a boarded up building across from the station. I was prepared to pump my own gas, but I was unprepared for a gas pump that had a lever on the left side that I had to pull toward me first in order for the gas to flow. Honestly, I stood a couple of minutes, tried the pump, and with a stroke of luck got it to work. When I went to pay, the woman inside the station chuckled and said, "I was about to come out and help you, but you figured it out."
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