Running Out of Gas

I had an errand to run yesterday during my lunch hour. I hopped in my car and drove out on the beltline. Within 10 minutes, I noticed my gas gauge needle was pointing to E. The little orange light started glowing.

My gas gauge only points to E when I’m on a highway. It never shows my tank as near empty when I’m around home or in any area I’m familiar with. And I swear my needle goes from quarter-tank to E within 2.7 miles. And the warning light comes on .3 miles after that.

I took the next exit off the beltline, onto some road I’ve never been on, and started looking out for a gas station. Apparently, I took the exit that leads completely out of the city, and into the country. After driving several miles down the road with nothing but woods and neighborhoods, I almost expected the pavement to end. But then, looking at my gas gauge and the glowing orange warning light, I’d probably run out of fuel before reaching the end.

That feeling of panic when you know you’re running on fumes and you can’t find a gas station is very aggravating. I hate that feeling. It’s a feeling born not just of fear of getting stranded somewhere, but of knowing that I was incredibly inattentive and stupid.

I even had to sit in a line of cars waiting for a construction crew to finish digging some ditch. When the worker holding the stop sign flipped his pole around to say “Slow,” I about shouted. Eventually, I did manage to find a gas station before my engine started sputtering. I must have driven 10 miles down that unknown road. I think I was in another area code.

At the gas station, standing beside my car while the fuel pumped into my tank, I listened to a woman at the pump next to me rant into her cell phone about some crazy girl friend. She never spoke any full sentences, just fragments and phrases.

“I know!”

“Sho’ nuff!”

“Who she sayin’?”

“I’m tellin’ ya!”

I think she said, “Crazy-ass bitch!” at least a dozen times. I don’t know if the CAB was the person she was talking to or the person she was talking about.

Anyway, I filled up my gas tank. Actually, I stopped at 12 gallons — I didn’t know my car would hold 12 gallons — I think my tank was so empty it might have charged me an overdraft volume.

After my fill up, I drove back to work. It took so much of my time driving out to the boons and back that I just gave up on running my errand and went on back to work.

Bullgrit