Besides being taught how to properly use a clutch and warned not to form bad driving habits, one of the main lessons my father taught me while learning to drive - was not to get caught with an empty tank of gas. Only once have I ever ran out of gas and it was a humiliating lesson involving a sarcastic uncle.
Recently I had the opportunity to revisit that event upon Liseanne when she ran out of gas in Dundee. Who knew I'd come close to finding myself in the same predicament so soon after Lise's experience.
After our trip down to Roseburg, N and I both made a mental note that the gas tank needed attention. Although, mental notes are only as good as the material they're written on. I forgot the Monday after work and we both forgot after the blogger meet-up. On Tuesday, when I hopped into the car to go to work, characters on the mileage counter were flashing urgently at me. :>O How big of an emergency was this? I thought I had another 30 miles of grace! I made a deal with myself to head to the closest gas station after work {oh! just noticed exbury azalea is starting to bloom!}, but I hated to pay 8 cents more a gallon. And so the long journey to Costco began . . .
I hit every single possible red light on the way there, but (thank heavens) no train. Every time I had to stop at a red light, I'd wonder if anyone would help me push the car out of the way of traffic and how far I'd have to walk to buy a jug o gas. Oh, such tension in the cab!
But I made it.
The young clerk came up to the window and apologized for taking so long, "I'm just glad I made it here!", I joyfully exclaimed. Poor unsuspecting, Jordan!
Was the tank empty? No! It still had approximately a gallon and a half left. Will I be testing that out again soon? Not likely!
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