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Video of the tire incident can be found at the bottom of this post.
I left Sedona around 10am Tuesday morning, with the intent to go camping near Prescott. But me being me, I was like, “Hoover Dam is right there, why don’t I go and come back to a campground?” After all, it had been 16 years since I was last at Hoover Dam, middle of July 2009 when the temperature was 128 degrees. On top of that (pun thoroughly considered), the Memorial Bridge that now spans the canyon was still under construction in 2009, so seeing it completed was quite a sight to behold.
After leaving the dam, I changed plans. Instead of heading back into Arizona and camping outside Prescott, I drove down Nevada’s Highway 95 across massive swathes of open, flat desert bordered by rugged mountains, crossed into California, and approached Needles, where NV 95 intersects I-10. At that junction, however, I noticed you could drive over the interstate into some BLM land, with signage stating “The Heart of the Mojave.”
About two minutes down the unpaved road was an open area with some dispersed camping sites and fire circles. I parked and, with the dying light, immediately set up the tent.
The nearly-full Moon made for indecent stargazing, with really only the northwestern section of the sky left the least tainted by moonlight.
In the constant 93 degree heat, coupled with the ground being a literal hot pad, sleeping wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. I left my bulky AC fan in Washington back in June, so need to get a more travel-friendly one for hotter nights in tents and cars. It would have helped a lot of discomfort.
4.5 hours later, I woke up for the sunrise, guzzled down some water, did a very brief hike to the top of the hill behind me to watch the actual Sun come up over the mountains to the east, and then went straight to taking down the tent before 93 degrees became 100.
Side note: I’ll mention now that later in the afternoon, my car’s temperature sensor measured 48 C at one point, or 118.2 F. As I found out last night, this was the hottest temperature recorded in Arizona for the entire year so far. Lucky me!
After packing up the tent and having a small breakfast, I planned what I wanted to do for the day. I had to be in Phoenix by nightfall, which was 3.5 hours to the east. However, I was close to Joshua Tree National Park, which was 2 hours to the west.
Guess what I chose to do.
I drove down the road to the nearest gas station, filled up (*cries at the literal $6.19/gallon*), then swung back in the opposite direction, bound for Joshua Tree National Park.
Very, VERY early on, I told myself, “This might be one of those moments where you’re pushing it.” You see, I had just checked my tires and fluids and whatnot the day before, and told myself when I got to Phoenix, I’d schedule maintenance, since I was right at the mileage limit for an oil change, and my tires were all in the red zone.
But sure. One more day won’t change anything.
So I drove west down I-40 right into the desert. If I thought the desert vistas of the previous evening were pretty, then these new views were glorious. Seriously, if you ever get the chance to drive I-40 from Needles, CA to Joshua Tree, you’ll understand what I mean. It’s an entirely new perspective on the vast scale and terrain of Planet Earth from other sights I’ve seen on this trip.
About an hour later, I got off I-40 and headed south, with the town of Twenty-Nine Palms about an hour away. The whole time, I could definitely *feel* that my tires were a bit weird, but again, only one more day, right? I said, out loud, and it’s on my dashcam, “I’m definitely nervous about my tires.”
Oh, how prescient I was. It’s funny, because at the start of the morning I just knew I was pushing it, and part of me thought maybe I should just go straight to Phoenix.
Well, about 8 miles outside Twenty-Nine Palms, there’s a relatively new roadside attraction called The End of the World that I’d seen in pictures at some point, but, like the Forrest Gump road two weeks earlier, I didn’t know I would see it on this section of road.
The Hollywood sign-esque letters are about 100 yards back from the road, with a sandy lot spread out before them, so it’s not like you’re in the middle of nowhere where no one can see you. To be honest, if you’re going to get stuck, this is the place for it to happen.
For the first fifty yards or so, the sand is compacted and easy to drive on, no different than a bit of light off-roading, which my car has handled just fine in the past (it handled 40 miles of off-road at Mogollon Rim, and 10 miles at Factory Butte and Moonscape Overlook, plus numerous other off-road and unpaved sections throughout the past 7,400 miles of this trip).
But then the sand becomes loose.
I immediately knew I had made a small error in judgement. And that if I stopped the car while tumbling through the sand, I’d get stuck.
But I really wanted an up-close picture of the sign. And like I said a bit ago, this wouldn’t be the worst place in the world to get stuck.
Only the end of it. *buh-dum tssh?*
Dear reader: I got the picture. But I also got stuck. My little 6.5-inch clearance, Front Wheel Drive Kia Soul spun out and dug into the sand.
*insert unironic surprised gasp*
I’m a physics guy. I know how the world works. I know my car is not designed for half of what I’ve put it through on this trip. I knew I’d get stuck in the sand and chose to do it anyway.
The next several minutes were stressful only because I was internally screaming at myself, but mostly I was laughing at the “Fuck Around and Find Out” nature of my situation. It was less of an “I’m screwed!” moment, and more of a “Who would have ever seen this coming????” moment.
On this trip, my car has taken on tens-of-miles of unpaved roads, gone up mountainsides, handled 40 miles of rough terrain with boulders sticking out of the ground I had to navigate around, spent the night at the edges of cliffs 20 miles from the nearest true civilization…all to get stuck in the sand.
Which should tell you, don’t underestimate sand.
So I got on my hands and knees digging out sand, testing the Drive and Reverse to rock my car, and digging some more. About 10 minutes in, I realized wait, this clearly happens to people all the time….because thirty feet away, there was plywood and compacted boards in the sand where other cars had done the same.
So, and I really wish I had taken pictures of my situation (it’s all on the dashcam, but the angles aren’t great to see me at work), I dug out sand, stuffed boards under my wheels, and got out on the second try.
In the midst of all this, however, I had stripped my front left tire, with about six inches of rubber peeling off and leaving the tire monitor wires exposed and snapped, which obviously caused my TPMS lights to come on.
Back on the pavement, I made like Frosty the Snowman’s sandy desert cousin and went thumpity-thump-thump down the road at half-speed for the next eight miles to a car service shop in Twenty-Nine Palms. Upon walking in the door, the gentleman at the counter said, “You must be the car I just heard flapping in from a mile away.”
Unfortunately, the shop didn’t have my tires in stock. So he called AutoZone, asked when their next supply pickup in Yucca would be, then called Yucca and told them to put tires in the pickup for me. The estimated time was originally 4-5 hours, but by a stroke of luck, the AutoZone guy arrived before noon, just two hours after I was stuck in the sand. By 12:30, all the maintenance was done, tires were all changed, and I was on the road again.
Joshua Tree was less than 10 minutes away, by the way.
While I can’t help but laugh at the predictable irony of the situation, to me it’s also a blessing in disguise. I knew my tires were in the red; I literally told myself I was getting worried about them, and would schedule maintenance the next day. But imagine if I had skipped going to Joshua Tree NP and instead went back to Phoenix, only for my tire(s) to strip and/or pop on the highway, potentially tens-of-miles from the nearest exit and town? I’d rather spin out in some sand, sitting still, with the shop right down the road.
It was the best-case scenario, honestly, and didn’t set me back at all, as I drove into Phoenix right at 7pm like I had planned (I was going to take a more southernly route after Joshua Tree, but opted for I-10 due to this).
In the end, are you really on a 52-day, 7,400+ mile road trip if you don’t blow a tire in the desert?
This world is beautiful.
Alex
Here’s the actual footage shortened to the important bits:
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