Flying aeromag surveys across the country, I landed on a lot of roads for a variety of reasons.
In Nevada, we were working out in the flats along the "Loneliest Highway in America," Hwy 5 I think it was. The nearest airport to get gas was almost an hour from the survey area, but there was one lonely little gas station/cafe out there that had a few hunter's cabins set that we stayed in during the month we were there. Just down the road was a gravel airstrip where we kept the airplane at night, but when I needed fuel, I'd just land on the highway and taxi up to the gas pumps.
I'd been doing this for about 10 days with no problems from the not yet seen local authorities, but lots of comments from the other drivers who came by while I was fueling.
One day, I'd fueled up and was waiting at the cafe counter for a couple lunches to go for aerial delivery to the ground crew out in the boonies when the waitress glanced over my shoulder and muttered "oh oh."
I looked out the window and there was a state trooper's cruiser parked next to the pumps and here came the officer walking in the door.
I was doing my best to blend into the scenery, but I didn't fool the officer who glanced around the half-dozen faces in the cafe, zeroed in on me and asked, "Is that your airplane?"
I re[lied that indeed, I was the pilot of that airplane, and the officer smiled and said it was the first time he'd ever seen an airplane at a car gas station.
I spent about 10 minutes chatting with the trooper and the subject of whether or not what I was doing was legal never came up.
I knew the ground crew would soon be wondering where the heck I was with their food and the officer didn't seem inclined to be in any hurry to leave. Finally, I said I had to get back to work and headed for the door, pushed the airplane back from the pumps and climbed in to start up and fire up all the aeromag gear.
As I taxied out to the road, the officer walked out the door and waved me on my way, so I checked for traffic coming down the hill to the north and rolled out on the road and took off. I saw the trooper a couple more times during our stay out there and never heard a word about any legal transgressions or complaints from motorists.
In fact, the closest we came to problems with the law was when a game warden stopped by the base station out near a hot springs and found us soaking in an impromptu jacuzzi one of the ground crew had constructed by digging a hole and diverting the flow of hot water into it with a few pieces of scrap sheet metal he'd dragged in from the desert.
Turns out that the hot springs was one of the few remaining locations of some sort of chub fish that was on Nevada's endangered species list and altering the flow of the small stream was prohibited.
We claimed ignorance about who had constructed the hot tub and swore up and down that we were merely taking advantage of the local amenities. We did pitch in and assist the game warden in tearing down the hot tub and, more or less, restoring the natural flow of water at the site.