Our day opened to the morning sun in the desert, after some visits from some nocturnal animal
that sniffed the tent, but did not otherwise harass us.  We did, however, hear what sounded like
coyote  calls during the night.  
  We had earlier agreed to go hiking first, then go poach a campsite, but during our visit
to the campground bathrooms, we found people already leaving.  So we took the time to break
camp and erect our own tents before setting out of the central mountains at around 10:30 am.
  On our way, we met an overburdened hiker on the side of the road, very near to where we 
ourselves had broken down the previous day.  We gave him a ride, as he was going to the same
place we were, over 20 miles away.  His name was Colin, and he was backpacking with some friends
from Texas A&M.  We dropped him off and set out to the Laguna Meadows, which was listed
first at the trailhead as 3.75 miles away, and then, 0.5 miles down the trail, as 4.4 miles away!
  We didn't make it the entire way as it was noon before we set out, and we carried only a
bottle of water each.  We made it some distance into the mountains, but other hikers coming
down said it was still 2 miles, much of it very steep.  Jen looked as red as a tomato, and we
decided it was a hike for pleasure, not the Bataan Death March, and headed back.  The walk
downhill was enjoyable, although I managed to sunburn my lips, which hurt at the moment.
  Returning to camp for a lunch of sandwichs, we then set off to the Costolon historic district
up the road, which turned out to be a general store, some old private buildings, and unlabeled
machinery.  After wasting a very small amount of time there, we set out to the nearest showers,
in Study Butte, roughly 30 minutes away.  The fastest way there was a gravel road by the name
of "Old Maverick Road" which seemed passable, but was labeled "high-clearence vehicles only."
  I said "To hell with that!" and off down the gravel track we roared.  While there was one
minorly difficult hill, for the most part, it was quite level and in good condition.  We made
it just under a mile from the end of the road when our car died just like it had the day before.
  A very irate Sparky set out for gas once more (He'd been against going down the road to begin
with) and was picked up shortly after.  In the meantime, Jen and I tried to revive the car
and limp it down the road.  We had made it roughly a mile in 30 minutes when Sparky returned
with gas, however, it failed to revive our car like previously.  Thus we sent him forth
again for a mechanic and more gas.  Study Butte was only 2.5 miles beyond where we were stalled,
so with much effort, Jen and I succeeded in limping the car to the Study Butte gas station.
  A full tank revived the vehicle, and we drove it to a nearby mechanic.  As we were about to
pull in, we were greated with a shout, as there was Sparky.  He'd already talked to the mechanic,
who no longer owned a tow truck, and he was "just about to cry" as he put it.  We ventured in
to greet the mechanic, who knew immediately what our problem was.
  "Vapor Lock" he said.  Apparently, Texas now was effected by EPA laws mandating winter and
summer gas brews, and while the winter gas was still sold everywhere, it caused vapor lock
in hot, high areas, which Big Bend was one of.  He said he regularly got up to 20 cars
during peak times parked dead in front of his shop.
  He told us there was no cure, other than to sit by the side of the road and wait.  He did
change our fuel filter while checking it, and billed us a very reasonable $35.  We took
pay showers and headed back around 6 pm to camp.  We had planned to go to a nature sideshow
around 7:30 pm, however, it was a 30 min back, and another 30 minutes there, so we decided
against it.  On our way back to camp, our car died again ON THE SAME HILL it had died on the
first time.  In a moment of irony, I noted the car would have made it back had we taken the
gravel trail back.  This time is died on the steep incline itself, and several people
stopped to help, although we declined it all and waved them onward.  After 10 minutes, the
car restarted, and we got to the top of the mountain.  On the way down, it died again, although
momentum kept us going.  However, the power brakes and steering going out around hairpin
turns made Sparky rather nervous.  My singing "We'll be coasting 'round the mountain when
we come." apparently did not help the situation, either.  After coasting what we would later
measure as 2.3 miles over 7 minutes, we came to rest in the valley.  There, as the sun finally
went down, we coaxed it back to life for good and drove to the campsite.  
  As we pulled into the campsite, we noticed several large brown figures and excited campers.
A heard of Javelina wild pigs were sitting between our campsite and the next, and had apparently
been around (but not in) our tents for the last hour.  They were brownish, small tusked pigs
and smelt like a flea-dipped cat, in my opinion.  The made their way off, and rest of our
night was uneventful.