As I am completely annihilated, Rob takes the first leg of the long journey East. A few hours outside of the park I start sensing that he is using the rumble strips on the highway as a sneaky way to drive by Braille, so I insist that he pull over.  Prior to his passing out in the back, he gives me vague directions about where I’m supposed to turn, consisting of “look for Bakersfield or Barstow.” When I begin to see the bright lights of L.A. several hours later, I decide that maybe I should wake somebody up and ask for directions. A quick u-turn and an hour or so drive back in the opposite direction puts us right where we need to be. Can you say ‘scenic route’? At 3:00 am it becomes painfully obvious that there is no way we are going to climb today, so I find a nice farm road, pull off and we all get a great night’s sleep.  Once the sun hits us, Rob hops behind the wheel while I crawl beneath the huge stack of sleeping bags we have lining the back of the Jeep, where I proceed to sleep for the next 8 hours. 

Driving East on I-70, we are starting to feel pretty good about our chances of success. Fatigue is definitely starting to kick in, but we’re both pretty sure that the Astro Tour is in the bag. Unfortunately, the frailty of our beings becomes all too aware as we whip around a corner and see a car upside down, well off the side of the Interstate.  I selfishly consider continuing on, rationalizing that there are already several other people stopped, but Robbie G rightfully pipes up that we really ought to stop. The horrific sight of baby toys strewn out across dusty sage is still fresh in my mind.