Today I ran out of gas. Fifty feet from a gas station.
I didn’t think I was running that low. I thought I could make it to the pump, but I didn’t. And, ironically, the gas station had no portable gas cans. They suggested I push the car up the hill into the station.
Hazard lights blinking, I sat, partially blocking a turn lane, and watched loads of people looking at me in a confused state and wondering why I wasn’t moving. Hazard lights blinking, folks. Go around!
A few very nice and very old men stopped to ask if I was okay. Then a cop stopped by and mocked me before driving off—he actually rolled his eyes! Fortunately, some really nice guy with lots of interesting piercings and a Vols jersey offered to run to his home nearby and get a gas can for me, refusing payment after giving me a few gallons. It was almost enough to make me a Vols fan.
Thank you, Guy With the Vols Jersey. As Earl would say, “it’s good karma.”
Soundtrack: in homage, "Rocky Top"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Wait a minute - the COP didn't HELP you????? WHAT???????????
No! I told him that my friend who was with me went to look for a gas can and he scoffed at me and drove off.
Can you believe that?
Post a Comment