It used to be if my kids were having trouble going to sleep, I'd simply stick them in their car seat and go for a 15-minute ride. They were out like a light.

Now when I start getting a little grumpy they stick me in the car and take me for a 15-minute ride and I'm asleep within five.

I didn't used to be able to sleep in a car, unless I was driving. For some reason that always makes me feel an overwhelming desire to close my eyes and drift away into dream land.

Now it happens no matter what seat I happen to be sitting in.

Such was the case when my youngest son, Jeremy, and I took a trip to Gillette, Wyo., last week. I drove most of the way there, but coming back I made it through the first 130 miles before my mind started drifting and my eyes started drooping. The first 50 miles were fine. Jer was sleeping. I was driving. Then we got into an 80-mile stretch of nothing but antelope and sagebrush. I tried keeping myself awake by counting antelope and decided I'd better stop after I reached 200 -- when I'm having problems with insomnia, I normally count myself to sleep.

Then I decided to start counting side roads. One ... two. That is, if you didn't count the ones that turned off into pastures that led to antelope and sagebrush.

Thankfully, I had a bottle of liquid caffeine to keep me awake. There were two problems. The caffeine wasn't working and the liquid was.

I called Brad -- believe it or not, they have cell phone service out in the middle of that 80-mile stretch of antelope and sagebrush. I hope the antelope appreciate how lucky they are.

"I have a problem," I told him.

He was a little concerned since he had broken down five days earlier on his way to Gillette. The whole reason for the trip was the delivery of his pickup. He's a firm believer in Murphy's Law.

"Now what?" he asked.

I explained my situation with the liquid caffeine.

He laughed.

"Just find a side road and pull over," he instructed.

Which would have been a great idea, if I hadn't passed the only side road along the 80-mile stretch 20 miles back.

"There aren't any side roads," I told him. "Just pasture roads."

"Well, take one of them," he instructed.

The conversation had started out light-hearted, but the urgency was starting to make me irritable.

"And do what? Ask an antelope to stand still so I can use it for cover?"

The phone went dead. He claims our cell company dropped the call. I think he hung up on me.

I finally decided my only option was to wait. I squirmed in my seat for the next 40 miles, while Jer laughed delightedly at my discomfort.

Next time I go to Gillette, I'm considering leaving the luggage at home and taking our port-a-potty and a blanket. The sage brush won't care and the antelope won't say a word.

I'll figure out what to do about clothes when I get there.