I had another all-day-help-my-dad extravaganza... leaving me no time to blog. But I am resilient. I will put something down. Luckily, my blog is still on Pacific Time, so even though it is technically Wednesday where I am, it's still Tuesday in whatever space/time continuum my blog is living in.
I was driving back from my dad's place and I looked down at my dashboard and noticed the idiot light on for the gas. Which has been known to happen to me. I was on the highway, though, and I had to drive a bit to find a place to get off and get gas. I was a wee bit nervous driving at 12:30 am by myself on the highways of Chicago with the possibility of running out of gas. Thank goodness I saw a station soon enough. I stopped in and filled up the tank. I'm pretty sure I have a 16-gallon tank. I put in 16.095 gallons. That means it was on fumes, right?
Pretty lucky.
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5 comments:
See, that would have me a nervous wreck! Yep, I think it was sucking on fumes alright! I'm glad you found a station quickly.
Awww, come on! Running out of gas is a family tradition! :)
I guess finding one "in the nick of time" is also a tradition. Or genetic.
Oh, little Lisa, what are we to do with you!
I remember getting a frantic telephone 2 yrs ago when we lived in CA.
"Greg, there's something wrong with the car!"
"What?"
"It won't move! I'm in the middle of an intersection!"
"Does it have gas in it?"
" [i]long pause[/i] Oh. [i]another long pause[/i] Well...I guess that's it then"
Oh! Then there was the Great Gas Disaster of 2006.
And the Gas Apocalypse of middle 2006.
and don't forget the poem I read at open mic night: "Beautiful Lisa and the Evil Gas Gauge"
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