At one point, we coasted seven miles down a mountainside without ever touching the accelerator. It was a noble effort and our greatest, but not nearly enough. A full 100 miles shy of our intended destination, the car's various alarms became increasingly insistent that the tank simply had nothing left.
A late lunch brought the realization that our Audi was likely to come to a stop in an area that was completely devoid of life, save for border patrol checkpoints and narco-murderers. It was time to save face and aim for one of the bailout points Audi had set up, lest we wind up in the back of an immigration bus, or worse, a shallow grave.