We were going to sleep on the sidewalk, if we were going to sleep at all. It was that or the freeway median, and that seemed an even worse choice. I did not want to sleep on the sidewalk or the freeway median, but there were no hotels, there were no campgrounds, there was … nothing. The town was little more than a crossroads, a few streets lined with white stucco houses. We had been dropped there hours — or was it days; it felt like days — before and could not catch a lift out.
I’ve got a piece up as part of collection of travel stories about the kindness of strangers. The whole thing is here.