National Lampoon

Channeled our inner Chevy Chase today.

"We have a quarter tank, let's just hit the road and we'll stop at the first gas station outside of town."

Famous last words. Rookie mistake.

After 45 minutes of pure nothingness between Alamogordo and Las Cruces, B glances down at fuel level, "24 miles until empty."

Slight panic.

I jump on Waze and search, "Perfect, there's a station 5 miles, take this exit."

Driving down what seemed to be a deserted road, we pass official looking signs 'visitors, right lane' 'no photos'. We both had a feeling, but the commitment was already made.

No turning back.

8 miles until E and .3 miles to gas station, blocked by White Sands Missile Range guard station.

The kids and I sat in the car, as we watched Daddy B walk towards what I assume is a highly secured base. I giggled at our comical conundrum as I wished him luck... and had flashbacks to National Lampoon vacation. We took bets on whether or not he could sweet-talk his way onto base.

After a few minutes (and a dozen of my prayers), he strutted back in our direction, confidently, to grab our driver's licenses.

Ten more minutes later and 2 background checks, the military police escorted our circus trailer to the gas station.

SO proud of this man's negotiating skills (Veteran status and Secret Clearance helped).

Nothing like saving $.30 / gallon!

Someone's gettin lucky tonight. I mean, jumping jacks.