2
You know that feeling when your truck breaks down at 2 a.m. in a Wyoming construction zone? The stars are out, the prairie wind is whispering sweet nothings through your air hoses, and you think — “Ah yes, this is peace.”
Then out of the mist appears a Wyoming State Trooper.
Shiny badge, serious face, and a tone that says, “I’ve seen some stuff.”
And you think he’s here to help.
Oh, sweet summer child.
The Scene
Truck down. Mechanic on-site, sleeves rolled up, trying to save the day. Tools are out. Maybe we’ll be rolling again in an hour.
Then Trooper McEfficiency rolls up and declares, “This truck must be towed. Right now.”
Mechanic: “But I’m fixing it.”
Trooper: “Nope. Tow truck’s on the way. We’ve got a contract.”
You: “Wait… who’s the tow company?”
Trooper: “Winkler Brothers Towing & Recovery, out of Cheyenne.”
And just like that, your night goes from diesel drama to financial thriller.
The Bill That Made My Wallet Cry
By 8 a.m., after a sleepless night of “Why me, Lord?” and “How much could it possibly cost?”, the invoice arrives.
➡ Tow distance: 10 miles
➡ Tow duration: Let’s say one hour (because, physics)
➡ Bill: $5,500
➡Generous Discount: $250 (Wow! Only $5,250! What a steal!)
So yeah, $1,000 per hour.
At that rate, you’d think the tow truck came with a hot tub, a massage chair, and Morgan Freeman narrating the drive.
The “Connection”
Now, the Trooper said he had a contract with Winkler Brothers.
Interesting choice of words, because according to Wyoming Highway Patrol policy, there are no “contracts” — just a rotational list of approved towing companies.
That means troopers call whoever’s next on the list, and that company must follow a state-filed fee schedule.
But here’s the thing: you, the poor, stranded driver, don’t get to negotiate that rate, choose your tow, or even blink before your truck’s hooked up and gone.
By the time you wake up, your truck’s in tow jail, and you’re paying ransom to get it back.
So, was any of this fair?
Was $1,000/hour fair?
Not unless the tow truck was made of gold and came with a breakfast buffet.
Was the officer right to boot the mechanic?
Legally… questionable. If the truck was in a hazardous location, the officer can order a tow for safety. But if your mechanic was fixing it and it wasn’t blocking lanes, that’s like telling a surgeon mid-operation, “Sorry, Doc, we’re calling an ambulance anyway.”
Was the towing company right to hold the truck until payment?
Technically yes — Wyoming allows a “possessory lien” until the bill is paid. But ethically? That’s like holding your sandwich hostage until you Venmo the deli.
The Real Problem
This story isn’t about one trooper or one towing company — it’s about a system where stranded drivers get no voice.
No quote, no consent, no choice — just an invoice that makes your credit card curl up and die.
And when the towing company says, “Sorry, we’re just following orders,” and the trooper says, “Sorry, it’s policy,” you realize:
Nobody’s accountable, and everybody’s getting paid — except you.
Final Thoughts
Wyoming, you’re beautiful.
Your sunsets are cinematic.
Your people are tough.
But your towing rates?
They’re highway robbery — literally.
So next time you break down on I-80 and see a tow truck coming with “Winkler Brothers” on the door, just know:
You’re not getting towed — you’re getting initiated into the “$5,000 Ten-Mile Club.”
Welcome to Wyoming, partner. Where the open road is free… but getting off it’ll cost you.
Then out of the mist appears a Wyoming State Trooper.
Shiny badge, serious face, and a tone that says, “I’ve seen some stuff.”
And you think he’s here to help.
Oh, sweet summer child.
The Scene
Truck down. Mechanic on-site, sleeves rolled up, trying to save the day. Tools are out. Maybe we’ll be rolling again in an hour.
Then Trooper McEfficiency rolls up and declares, “This truck must be towed. Right now.”
Mechanic: “But I’m fixing it.”
Trooper: “Nope. Tow truck’s on the way. We’ve got a contract.”
You: “Wait… who’s the tow company?”
Trooper: “Winkler Brothers Towing & Recovery, out of Cheyenne.”
And just like that, your night goes from diesel drama to financial thriller.
The Bill That Made My Wallet Cry
By 8 a.m., after a sleepless night of “Why me, Lord?” and “How much could it possibly cost?”, the invoice arrives.
➡ Tow distance: 10 miles
➡ Tow duration: Let’s say one hour (because, physics)
➡ Bill: $5,500
➡Generous Discount: $250 (Wow! Only $5,250! What a steal!)
So yeah, $1,000 per hour.
At that rate, you’d think the tow truck came with a hot tub, a massage chair, and Morgan Freeman narrating the drive.
The “Connection”
Now, the Trooper said he had a contract with Winkler Brothers.
Interesting choice of words, because according to Wyoming Highway Patrol policy, there are no “contracts” — just a rotational list of approved towing companies.
That means troopers call whoever’s next on the list, and that company must follow a state-filed fee schedule.
But here’s the thing: you, the poor, stranded driver, don’t get to negotiate that rate, choose your tow, or even blink before your truck’s hooked up and gone.
By the time you wake up, your truck’s in tow jail, and you’re paying ransom to get it back.
So, was any of this fair?
Was $1,000/hour fair?
Not unless the tow truck was made of gold and came with a breakfast buffet.
Was the officer right to boot the mechanic?
Legally… questionable. If the truck was in a hazardous location, the officer can order a tow for safety. But if your mechanic was fixing it and it wasn’t blocking lanes, that’s like telling a surgeon mid-operation, “Sorry, Doc, we’re calling an ambulance anyway.”
Was the towing company right to hold the truck until payment?
Technically yes — Wyoming allows a “possessory lien” until the bill is paid. But ethically? That’s like holding your sandwich hostage until you Venmo the deli.
The Real Problem
This story isn’t about one trooper or one towing company — it’s about a system where stranded drivers get no voice.
No quote, no consent, no choice — just an invoice that makes your credit card curl up and die.
And when the towing company says, “Sorry, we’re just following orders,” and the trooper says, “Sorry, it’s policy,” you realize:
Nobody’s accountable, and everybody’s getting paid — except you.
Final Thoughts
Wyoming, you’re beautiful.
Your sunsets are cinematic.
Your people are tough.
But your towing rates?
They’re highway robbery — literally.
So next time you break down on I-80 and see a tow truck coming with “Winkler Brothers” on the door, just know:
You’re not getting towed — you’re getting initiated into the “$5,000 Ten-Mile Club.”
Welcome to Wyoming, partner. Where the open road is free… but getting off it’ll cost you.
and 
emojis together, eh...
