Living life of luxury with half a tank of gas
Now that hand sanitizer is more readily available and hoarding toilet paper seems so 2020, I’ve been wondering what will be in short supply next. Thanks to those folks we can always count on to emphasize the “me” in America, I now have my answer: gasoline.
Last Friday, a cyberattack forced the shutdown of the Colonial Pipeline, causing a fuel shortage in the southeastern states. People have been asked to buy only as much gas as they need. For some people, though, the amount they need is whatever is more than what everybody else has.
I had intended to write about cars and gasoline even before last week’s attack by hackers, which either means that I’m psychic or else I have really good timing. I’m going to go with good timing because that’s an essential trait if you’re the kind of person who sees the low fuel warning light in their car and says, “Challenge accepted.”
I was going to start by saying that there are two kinds of people in this world: those who believe they are legally bound to head to the nearest gas station to fill up the instant their gas gauge indicates the tank is three-quarters full, and those who view the gas gauge needle below “E” as an invitation to play a game of chicken. Now I know there are actually three types of people (See above. Sigh). I’ll let you guess which type I am, and if you didn’t guess I’m the kind who likes to coast for a mile or two on fumes before I’m sure it’s time to fill up, you must be new here. Welcome.
Good to the last drop is not just a coffee slogan; it’s my driving mantra. I’m not going to admit in print that I’ve never run out of gas because that will invoke the scientific phenomenon known as a jinx, but I will say that in all my years behind the wheel of a vapormobile I’ve been extraordinarily lucky.
But then a strange thing started happening. The last couple times that I’ve filled up my gas tank it was before the fuel indicator light had come on. I can only assume that this totally out of character behavior is the result of an
I was going to start by saying that there are two kinds of people in this world: those who believe they are legally bound to head to the nearest gas station to fill up the instant their gas gauge indicates the tank is three-quarters full, and those who view the gas gauge needle below “E” as an invitation to play a game of chicken.
unreported side effect of the COVID -19 vaccine. I have tried repeatedly to confirm this theory, but the Centers for Disease Control has stopped taking my calls.
If it’s not a vaccine side effect, what else could explain this weird conduct? It’s possible that I simply miss going to the gas station. During the pandemic, my car’s fuel efficiency can best be calculated in miles to the month rather than miles to the gallon. Perhaps that little orange gas pump illuminated
on my dashboard signals an opportunity to interact with a different computer screen and the chance to make choices — like the grade of gas and whether I want a car wash — that don’t involve my Netflix watch list. Or maybe it just gives me an excuse to avoid going home and facing the jobs that await me there — like stripping the wallpaper in my living room and cleaning out the basement.
Maybe the decision to refuel before I hit empty is a sign that I’m finally grown up and am willing to take on adult behaviors and responsibilities.
Nah, that’s not it.
The change in behavior could
be because I’m questioning whether my timing is as good as I think it is. Sure, my driving history suggests that I have a finely developed grasp of the tablespoons-of-fuel-to-distance-to-gas-station ratio and, yes, I am writing about this in the middle of a gasoline shortage. But then I receive a new issue of a travel magazine and it calls everything into question. It’s a magazine I’d thought about getting for a long time before finally subscribing to it. In December 2019. It’s one thing to shrug off the decision to subscribe as a fluke in the timing department, it’s another to be reminded of it monthly in all its full-color, glossy-paged glory.
Whatever the reason, I’m resting easy at the moment knowing that my car has a nearly full tank of gas. I do worry, though, about my kindred spirits down south who may have been caught unawares by the recent turn of events.
I’m sending them my best wishes, along with some complementary copies of a lovely travel magazine, because they won’t be going anywhere for a while.