In the morning we get the bad news that our transmission is completely blown and the earliest it can be fixed is at a Chevy dealership by Monday or
Tuesday. Ben decides that there is no way he is going to get to Seattle for the flight on the 20th that he already booked, so he flies home from
Denver. The band is now a 3-piece.

A decision still must be made about the next two shows, Idaho and Portland. Mike is determined to somehow still play them. After much debate and
research, I cast the deciding vote in favor of renting a car, driving it to Idaho and then to Seattle and then to Portland, then renting another car
and driving it straight back to Boulder to retrieve our van, and driving the van on to our next show in San Diego. We will play the Idaho show with
electric guitars and bass, get our acoustic guitars in Seattle, and play the Portland show (and the rest of the tour) acoustically. Scott is opposed
and has a bad feeling about it, but accepts the decision.

After hopping the fence at the Chevy dealership to get our guitars out of the van, we set off once again north to Wyoming and across it west. This
time it’s late at night, and we are in a Mercury Sable, considerably faster and more fuel efficient than the van. We come to appreciate that Wyoming
is one dark place at night....really really dark. Often there is really nothing, no light source outside the road, despite miles of visibility.

At one point Mike realizes we are getting quite low on gas. Running out again would be quite bad, seeing as how we’re in the middle of nowhere in the
middle of the night. We see a sign for gas in 1 mile--phew. But when we try to go in, we end up back on the on-ramp, and we see that the gas station
is closed anyway. The next services are in 24 miles. 24 miles and we’re millimeters above the line for ‘E.’ We are all reminded of the Seinfeld
episode in which Kramer goes below the slash on a test-drive. But we don’t want this to turn out quite like that did. Nothing we can do but go for
it. We count down the mile markers. We are on the slash. The “need gas” icon has lit up. We all listen for the sound of the car giving out. But
somehow, it doesn’t happen. We roll into station with the gas gauge probably as low as it can go, at the bottom of the slash. It has never felt so
good to fill up the tank.

We stop for the night at “the INN” at Rock Springs, Wyoming. While Mike gets the room, a dog walks up to the car where Scott and I are waiting. Just
a dog in Wyoming at 4 in the morning. Tomorrow, we complete the drive and play in Idaho Falls, ID.

Dream Journal (last night):
I am sitting in a bar with some high school friends on the eve of my 22nd birthday. I’m drinking because I need to kill myself tonight. A while ago
I had a talk with Ho Ying during which we decided that the best of our lives was going to be over by the time we turn 22, so we might as well kill
ourselves. Ho Ying isn’t here tonight though, and I haven’t talked to him about it recently. I’m having a hard time drinking enough to be able to
kill myself, and as time goes on I think about how much Ho Ying really meant what he said, and what he’s doing right now. When my friends suggest
going over to a concert, I agree, thinking perhaps I should wait and see on the whole suicide thing.
The concert is Blink 182, never one of my favourite bands. But they seem quite different tonight, they’re kind of old men and their music is really
good, kind of like Built to Spill or Broken Social Scene. The concert is being held in a library or bookstore with very high shelves. The last thing
I remember is climbing up on one of the ladders and looking at some books high on a shelf.