Freezing in 100-degree heat

Don't get stranded anywhere along Highway 50, the loneliest road in the west. You'll feel the 100-degree temperatures hit you before you even step out of the car to pop the hood and assess the damage, enough to melt the soles of your shoes - trust me, I know firsthand.

But it won't be the heat that kills you.

You'll realize that your car is unfixable without spare parts and a helping hand, so you have no choice but to sit and wait. Your cell phone doesn't have service out here.

If you think you can withstand the high desert sauna, you're wrong. The reason is because you just read the word "sauna" without frowning at it. There is no water to this heat, none whatsoever. Maybe you've felt the tropical heat, or even similar-tasting dry heat. But you've never felt what this desert has to offer.

Your sweat will evaporate from your body, making your skin burn, and forcing you to sweat even more.

But it won't be the heat that kills you.

As the sun dips lower, you'll count the minutes to nightfall.

The temperature will drop, and at first, you'll smile and thank your lucky stars. The first cool evening breeze will bolster your spirits.

You'll watch for headlights to see if someone's coming to help you - but you're not as desperate as you were minutes ago. This temperature seems more manageable.

But no cars will come, and the temperature will keep falling.

Desert creatures chatter at night. You'll hear the rattlesnake's warning, and the coyote's scream. You have the warmest blood in this frozen wasteland, and they want it.

Your sweat-soaked clothes will suddenly chill against your body, gathering frost. Your fingertips, which were red from the sunburn just moments ago, turn blue.

You'll drop to the asphalt, hoping that the road held onto some of its warmth, but it's a misguided hope.

Crawl toward the open desert. Bury your body yourself, it will whisper to you.

You'll dig your fingers into the dirt, but it's tough and dry, unwieldy enough to peel your nails away from your skin. The blood that trickles from your hands is the closest thing to water that it's tasted in years.

They'll find your car on the side of the road days later, but they'll never find you.

The desert will drink you up.