We all have our nemeses. For me, it's the gas station.
I'm not sure what causes my brain to fart when trying to fill up my car's tank (gas fumes, perhaps?), but I have a long history of gas ... stories.
There was the time when I was out with a co-worker and I stopped to get much needed gas in my car. For the life of me, I could not get the cap unscrewed. I pushed and turned, turned and pushed, but the stupid thing would not twist. My friend came out to help. She tried, but it wouldn't move for her either. The cap was stuck but good.
She went inside to get help. The station attendant came out, and with a flick of his wrist had the gas cap off faster than I could say duh. The whole pushing thing? The gas cap doesn't like it. Pushing and twisting is for child proof medicine bottles only. And before you try to give me the benefit of the doubt, it wasn't a new car either. We'd had it for a number of years. I was, however, pregnant at the time.
Fast forward to this week. I pulled into a gas station because my fuel gauge was dangerously low. I'd learned the hard way that the low fuel indicator light had burned out (ran out of gas for the first time in my history of driving). So when I noticed I was close to THE LINE, I didn't mess around. I got out of the car, paid at the pump, chose my grade, and put the handle in the tank. It engaged, and then ... broke. The trigger would click, but nothing else would happen.
The car at the next pump and had finished and driven off, so I knew that pump had a working handle. I cancelled the transaction, pulled forward, and started the process again. I got out of the car, paid at the pump, chose my grade, and put the handle in the tank. It engaged, and then ... broke. What were the odds?
Not good. It had to be operator error. My error. But for the life of me, I could NOT figure out what I was doing wrong. I thought about leaving and sending out hubby to fill up the car later, but with my newfound respect for the empty line, I was afraid to risk it. I must have stood there for a good five minutes trying to figure it out.
After, I had this great text convo with hubby (AKA Mr. Incredible):
All his guesses were wrong. I assume by now you have a theory as well.
When's the last time you've seen one of these?
At least I figured it out. I didn't even have to call the attendant this time.
And that whole "mom's credit card" thing? That's an entirely different story.
The greatest gift you can give an author is
to recommend their stories to someone who will enjoy them.
The second greatest gift is a comment. ;)
And subscribing to their newsletter. That's cool too.