When mom learned that I opted to drive to Romantic Times convention in Vegas instead of getting a plane ticket in order to save money, she said, ‘That never works, I wished you’d gotten on a plane.”

I love to drive, but I make it about three hours before I started getting antsy. However, I had the new JR Ward book, The Beast, on audio, so I wasn’t worried. (Shout out to JR Ward, I worship the ground you walk on!)

The drive was supposed to be around 11 hours. I made it about seven before I realized I was nearly out of gas and in the middle of the Utah desert. I had to turn off the audiobook as my heart was beating too loud in terror to be able to hear, plus I thought maybe it would conserve gas (I have no idea if that is true or not). About ten minutes after this realization, when my car was telling me I could make it about another 30 miles, I see a sign that points off the highway to a gas station 12 miles away.

Thank God!

I did not die in the desert.

Around hour eight, as I was going around a semi at 85 MPH, I hear a loud pop and my Mini Cooper swerves toward the semi. I gripped the steering wheel and managed to keep from going directly under the semi’s tires, and pulled off on to the side of the road. After about 30 minutes I figured out how to get the spare tire out from under my car. About 15 minutes after that, a kind park ranger stopped and showed me how to get my jack to work (in my defense, it took him a bit to figure it out too). I changed my tire as he watched, after he reminded me to put on my parking break. Before he left, he told me where to go to get a new tire.   I followed his directions, and, with the audiobook off (too stressed to pay attention), I drove to the next town. They didn’t have tires for Mini Coopers. The young attendant spent 10 minutes calling other tire shops until he found one twenty miles away. My Mini, spare tire, JR Ward’s Beast, and I drove very slowly with the flashers on to the next town. There another young attendant took care of me, sold me a tire, and had his helper do it twice to make sure it was done correctly.

Many hours later, The Beast still playing, I pulled into the brightly light Sin City, ready to fall asleep and hopefully wake the next day and meet some new readers who’ve never heard of me, and maybe even never heard of gay fiction at all.

The amazing thing to me was how three men (seemingly straight, and I have pretty good gaydar) of varying ages, all treated me with such kindness and respect. Three men from very small, small towns. Three men who each saw my rainbow bumper stickers.

Honestly, it made a very long day, which was a bit scary at times, a pretty remarkable day. One that increased my faith in my fellow man.

And, a day that proved my mother correct. Again. Flying would have been cheaper.

Oh, and JR Ward’s, The Beast?   Holy shit, flawless!

Brandon Witt’s outlook on life is greatly impacted by his first eighteen years of growing up gay in a small town in the Ozarks, as well as fifteen years as a counselor and special education teacher for students with severe emotional disabilities. Add to that his obsession with corgis and mermaids, then factor in an unhealthy love affair with cheeseburgers, and you realize that with all those issues, he’s got plenty to write about….

Visit Brandon’s webpage: http://www.brandonwitt.com/

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Enjoy episodes of The Witty Hour: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCO5cFqYKyNyDCxExAonFPRA/videos?view_as=public