High Desert Crossing

The high desert is unforgiving in August, but Dazey's old inline-six hummed along at 55 the whole way. We learned to time our driving for the cool hours and to always, always carry extra water.

Outside Moab we found a dispersed campsite on a sage plateau. No hookups, no neighbors — just the wind and a sky so wide it felt like it might swallow us.

Two tires blown outside Green River, both patched by a kind mechanic named Walt. We left him a six-pack and a postcard.

Lesson learned the hard way: a 1999 Lazy Daze is a tank, but her tires are older than we'd like to admit. New rubber before the next big haul.