Could tell as we left the truck stop, our bladders empty and coffee mugs full, that we would be timing it just wrong.

The sun would soon be setting.

We had clouds turning pink on the mountains to the east, and a bright orange vista over the mountains to the west. Every chance I got at a view uninterrupted by semi trucks or powerlines, I was snapping shots out the window.

My best opportunity was going to be when we drove down the entrance ramp, with no powerlines at all to the east.

Naturally, the wife whipped across the intersection and began barreling down the ramp, aiming to hit 75 mph in the next quarter-mile.

You're not in any hurry! I scolded.

But the shots were just so-so.

She offered to stop for a few minutes at the truck pullout a few miles out of town, so I could get a few pictures.

I looked at the mountains to the west. The pullout will probably be too many minutes too late.

She refused to let my gloom affect her mood, and several miles later, pulled off in front of the front semi.

It was twenty-three minutes later before we pulled back onto the highway for our hour and twenty minute drive home.

Twenty-three minutes. And one hundred and fifty-eight images later.

And the wife agrees... the photos don't do it justice,

The real sunset was redder.