That night was not to be a good one for me.  The stomach problem I had earlier manifested
itself in it's worst case yet, and I slept little, as it felt like my stomach was filled with
napalm.  The next morning it was quite painful to swallow my breakfast.  The fog had somehow
followed us from the Hill Country, and we awoke to another foggy and chilly morning.  After
a quick shower, we set off for Big Bend.
  Several ghost towns later, we breezed into Sanderson, which was right next to Sanderson
Canyon, which we were to cross on US-90 no less than 4 times.  We speculated that this canyon 
must later join with the Hondo Creek to the north.  The last town before Big Bend was Marathon,
a good 70 miles away, and was little more than an intersection.
  Once in Big Bend, we were told there were still some camping spots available, if we hurried.
Less than 10 miles from the campsite, the Crown Vic suddenly lost all acceleration and came to 
rest by the side of the road, in a place so remote, no cell phone signal was possible.  We sent
Charlie with the gas can to hitch a ride (The fuel pump sounded shot, but it was worth a try)
while Jen and I tried in vain to revive the vehicle.
  Over the next hour and a half, only one person stopped to offer us aid, although one group
of girls did pull 20' in front of us, take a picture, and left, ignoring our disabled vehicle
with emergency blinkers on.  We limped the coughing vehicle another mile, to a tourist outcropping
where we could get a signal.  There we called the Ranger's office, which was unwilling to
help us with our car, but gave us the number of a tow service, over an hour away.  As this
happened, Sparky returned with the gas.  Before calling the tow service, we decided to try
the gas, since Sparky had gone so far to get it.  Texas hospitality being was it was, he had 
started to walk the 20 miles to our car before someone would finally give him a ride.
  Like a miracle, the car ran fine on the 1 gallon of gas, and we limped it back the 20 miles
to the Welcome Center and the gas station, where we filled the tank the rest of the way.  We 
speculated the nut in Hondo had sold us the watery bottom of his gas tank, and the water only
stalled out the vehicle when our fuel pump started to pull from near the bottom of the tank.  We
bought a fuel treatment for this, and resolved to keep the fuel tank over 1/2 full.
  Now, there was no spots available, as it was 3 pm in the afternoon.  However, Big Bend has what
is known as Zone Primative Parking, where you pick an area of the park, and just pitch a tent,
making sure to pack all waste and such.  The restrictions were that you must be 0.5 miles from
the road and out of sight.  We stopped at 3 places, trying in vain to find a spot in the low 
hills that wasn't visible.  Finally, we found a spot, as Jen was dizzy and suffering from dehydration.
We pitched our tent, cooked our food, and, with an hour of daylight still left, headed down
for a dip in the Rio Grande.
  In retrospect, we should have known better as the river was unappealing in Albequerque.  However,
the smell was enough to convince us this was a bad idea, although given the number of muddy
footprints exiting the river, some people were going to be sick tomorrow morning.  Thus, I returned
to camp, settled down for the night, and whipped out my laptop.  I copied all the pictures
off of Jen's camera, and penned this account.  Hopefully a good propping up and some anti-acid
medication I purchased on the way should prevent a repeat of last night.