Mile Marker #13: Thoughts on the Kindness of Strangers

I’ve been listening to a lot of My Favorite Murder in the last couple of days (the wonderful podcast with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark), which makes for excellent background noise while updating client spreadsheets. Spreadsheet Goblin Mode is in full deployment.

Anyway, I just wrapped up Episode 329; "The Last Telephone Booth,” and a portion of the stories talked about a woman who was kidnapped at a rest stop in Wyoming.

A note on Wyoming rest stops: They’re creepy as ph*ck.

When I drove cross-country, moving to and from Utah, Wyoming was the most beautiful and low-key most terrifying part of both drives. The rest stops, in particular, are pretty sketchy because they often aren’t fully equipped. Think outhouses with pit toilets and hand sanitizer instead of sinks — glorified port-a-potties, really — and a mostly-empty parking lot where 90% of the vehicles are long-haul trucks. (And like, a Jeep or an F150 or two. I think that’s a legal requirement in Wyoming.)

The best part is that they’re out in the middle of freaking nowhere. Driving through cowboy country, the only view for miles and miles includes the (absolutely gorgeous) mountains, a buncha cows, and barbed wire fences to protect/contain said buncha cows.

What’s more, pretty much the entire Wyoming east-west drive takes Route 80, an occasionally two-lane but mostly one-lane highway that spans the entire state. I saw these in Montana too, but Wyoming was the first place I ever drove through with signs saying things like “next facilities 150 miles” and “last gas station for 80 miles” (followed 5 miles later by “if you do not have at least 100 miles in fuel, TURN AROUND”).

And trust me, I listened to those signs. Driving solo on the way back, I did not want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere along Route 80, where there was no cell phone signal and I was the only car on the road for dozens of miles at a time.

(Also, this isn’t me sh*tting on Wyoming — Wyoming is freaking gorgeous and the people I met there were kind, helpful, and lovely. I just made the mistake of listening to nonstop murder podcasts while driving alone for five days. Brilliant!)

Which brings me back to the rest stops. On Route 80, if you see a rest stop, you stop there, even if you don’t really need to. You just don’t know when the next one will pop up (and GPS isn’t super helpful, because, like I said, zero cell phone signal).

Every time I stopped at a rest stop on that drive, Wyoming or otherwise, I held my keys in my hand with my pepper spray in full sight — not necessarily because I thought I needed it, but because I’m a female-presenting 20-something driving alone with a dog. And each time, I’d rush through my business, then rush my dog through her business, then get back in the car and back on the highway as quickly as possible. (Again, I blame the murder podcasts.)

And all this went very well until one rest stop smack-dab in the middle of Route 80, when I did my whole rushing-myself-now-rushing-my-dog thing at an even quicker speed because, joy of joys, two dudes in a truck sat there watching me the entire time.

I ignored them, quietly freaking out, pepper spray where I could reach it (and they could easily see it), occasionally glancing over my shoulder to see if they were still staring (they were), then quietly freaking out some more.

This continued until I got back in my car. I sat there for a couple of minutes, planning not to leave until they did, but they just sat there with their engine idling too. Our cars were parked across from each other, so I could see into their car and noticed them talking to each other while still watching me.

At this point, I decided, okay, I might as well start up my drive again, and if it seems like they’re following me, I’ll turn around and go back to the rest stop and flag someone for help. So I fired up the engine, got my dog settled in her co-pilot bed in the passenger seat, and drove away, eyes glued to the rear-view mirror.

And sure enough, they started their car and drove after me.

I hesitated at the spot where the rest stop lanes divide, one side headed east (me) and the other side headed west, to see if they’d fall in behind me. Then, they pulled into the west-side lane and headed back out onto the highway in the opposite direction I was traveling. And when they drew even with me, both men gave me the most genuine smiles and friendly waves before driving away.

And that’s when it hit me — these random Wyoming boys weren’t stalking me. They were keeping an eye on me!

To their eyes, I was just a random city girl with a dog, visibly out of her element alone in the Wyoming flatlands. These gentlemen delayed their trip for however long I dawdled, convinced they were watching me, just to make sure I made it safely back to my car and back on the road.

I swear, I almost cried.

I felt a little bit bad for assuming the worst, but I also see it as a personal strength that I had them clocked from the minute I parked my car. I felt like something was up, and even if it wasn’t, I’m proud of myself for my “street smarts.”

I like telling this story because it’s such a small but extremely poignant message about the kindness of strangers. They were probably in the middle of a ridiculously long drive as well. (I mean, at that point, there was NOTHING in the area for 2+ driving hours in either direction.) But they still took the time to make sure that my dog and I made it safely back on the road.

Just goes to show that even when you’ve listened to too many murder podcasts and are jumpier than a cat surprised by a banana (look it up), somebody might have their eye on you, making sure you get home safe.

That’s my story for today. I remembered it while listening to more murder podcasts and it made me believe in the world a little more. Figured I’d share that feeling with you :)

Til next time,
Mags