Dagny, to whom I defer on all things Nevada, predicted a wait, so we arrive at 4 p.m. on the nose. Sure enough, within a half hour, locals fill the bar, jockeying for position when the dining room opens at 5 p.m. We snag two bar stools, and I set my purse in a small "canal" beneath the bar. Dagny yanks it out. "Men used to pee in that trough!" she says. Apparently, cowboys were too lazy to leave the bar stools to relieve themselves. The Star Hotel's signature cocktail, the Pecan Punch--a lethal combination of brandy, grenadine, and pecan liqueur--allows me to laugh it off.

Every entrée comes with a dizzying number of sides--iceberg salad topped with a garlicky dressing, vegetable soup, fresh French fries, and baked beans I hold back from touching to leave room for my main course. The juicy rib eye is seared so perfectly, I swear it's better than any I've tasted in a New York City steak house.

A cowboy in Virginia City (Dave Lauridsen) [enlarge photo] MAY 2006 ISSUE • Table of Contents • Maui: Friendly, Quirky, and Full of Soul • Secret Hotels of Bali • 25 Reasons We Love Oaxaca • Family Travel: Guide to Summer Vacations • Road Trip: Nevada • 40 Best Vacations

After dinner, we check out the Tiki Hut, a retro dive with a trashy-looking velveteen mural of an oceanscape. At the bar, men in cowboy hats are poring over song lists. Karaoke! We scan the book for our favorite song by one-hit wonder Night Ranger, "Sister Christian." When a mustached man asks Dagny her name, she lies. I follow her lead, and for the rest of the night, we have to suppress the giggles when the DJ calls for "Katie and Joni."

Lodging

Food

Nightlife

Day 4: Elko to Reno

There's no getting around it: Northern Nevada contains some serious wide-open space. The Census Bureau says there are only 2.7 people per square mile in Elko County, making it one of the most sparsely populated places in the lower 48. Heading south to Eureka along Route 278, we see cattle grazing in the distance; they look like toy farm animals. Even before we reach Highway 50--also known as the Loneliest Road in America--we feel utterly isolated.

A representative from AAA once told Life magazine that tourists need "survival skills" to drive the highway. One of ours is the ability to repeatedly belt out Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody," the rare treasure amid the punk-heavy selections on my boyfriend's iPod, which I packed instead of mine.