My Gas Problem

We know each other well enough by now to talk about this, right?

In the summer of 2011, gas was really expensive. As a result, I walked on the wild side and frequently let the meter hit empty (aaaaaand stay there for a few days as I continued to drive) until my next pay-day so I didn’t have to cut into my Cheetos budget. I’m sure you’ve come dangerously close to an empty tank at least once in your life (because we all know that empty doesn’t really mean empty, so what’s the rush?), but I think most people manage to fill up in the nick of time. Unless you really want to live a little:


One beautiful summer morning, I decided to go to the beach. I packed myself a lunch and a book and couldn’t wait to sprawl out in the peace and tranquility that is rolling sand and lapping waves. (Now, if we could just get those children and dogs banned, then we’d really have something!)

I couldn’t remember how long I’d been running on empty, so I got in my car with this intended route: Gas station (to fill up, but mostly to grab a slushie), then beach. I slowly started backing out of my driveway…

.

.

GLACHUCKA

.

.

What was that?

.

.

BLUBLUCKA

.

.

Oh oh.

.

.

BLUNK

.

.

This

.

.

BLONK

.

.

.

.

.

is unfortunate.

.

.

.

.

.

BLOP.

(That’s the sound of the engine struggling through its last breaths, in case you didn’t get it)

Well, I did it. The car was OFFICIALLY out of gas. And you’re thinking, “What a relief for it to happen in your own driveway!”

Well. Kind of. Half on the driveway. Half in the middle of the road.

Artist’s rendering:

car

And that silver 2001 Ford Taurus is the actual car I drive. Because it’s a babe magnet.

I would have been really pissed with myself if I wasn’t too busy swelling with pride. How many people get it to empty? Like, really empty! Of course, it couldn’t have been the perfect scenario where I’d run out of gas in the middle of nowhere and some hunky man comes out of his barn and whispers in my ear, “Don’t you worry, little darlin’, I’ll take good care of you…..I’ve got cable.” No. I get the convenience of my own house coupled with the inconvenience of inconveniencing other motorists. How thrilling.

There was no moving it. The incline of my driveway was really screwing me over. I couldn’t go forward back up the hill because you need gas to do that. And I couldn’t let it coast backwards and steer it to the side of the road because there was a chance the momentum wouldn’t push me far enough and I’d block both lanes of traffic. My high school physics teacher would be so proud.

In hindsight, I could have asked a neighbour to help me push it either back up the driveway, or onto the side of the street. But who knows their neighbours? Yuck.

So. I put the car in park, turned on the four-ways and called CAA. They would be there in 40 minutes. In the meantime, my car’s ass hung out in the middle of the street like it just don’t care.

I stood next to the car and did a helpless shrug of the shoulders with a–feel sorry for me, I’m a helpless young woman stranded in my own driveway, cars are complicated, am I right?–look to all the drivers who had to wait for oncoming traffic to subside before maneuvering around my car. But that got old, quick, because people aren’t so nice when they’re mildly disrupted and they weren’t really going for my adorable routine. So I slinked away into my house and for the next 40 minutes, watched all the honking and the “WHAT THE?”s from my front window, with only my eyes peering out from under the window sill.

theVERYsinglegirl

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10 comments

  1. meesha

    Love that artist’s rendering

    P.S. the “helpless young woman” pose doesn’t work too well for me either. I prefer to think modern men are not so chivalrous as those in my grandmother’s day rather than they think I’m an ugly cow ! 😉

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