I had a few things I wanted to accomplish on the first Sunday of December. I had a few errands to run, a meeting to attend, and I wanted to take a nap before the Ravens and Steelers played that evening.
But it would all start with a trip to church in the morning. I had a good feeling as we braved the cold and jumped in the car. That good feeling lasted less than a few minutes.
We neared the intersection of Middle and York streets when the car sputtered. I had no inkling anything was wrong. I cranked and cranked the ignition with no positive results. This was not how I envisioned my day going.
So we called for a tow truck, I waited at the car and cursed my bad luck. I had just paid off the thing. I didn’t need this aggravation.
And speaking of aggravations, I know a car broken down near a busy intersection is a big pain in the butt for everyone, but why do people pull up close behind a car with its hazards flashing, then express surprise when the car doesn’t move? I was broken down people. I don’t like it any more than you do, but save me your theatrics because you weren’t paying attention.
Anyways. I watched in pain as the tow truck driver couldn’t even start my car with jumper cables after he towed me to a local garage. I could see the bills mounting for whatever ailed my car.
I don’t like how much I need to depend on my car, but I don’t have much of a choice. I treat it well, but know in the back of my mind that my daily commute to Baltimore coupled with all the other driving I have to do might catch up to me one day.
I had just hoped to enjoy a couple of years without a car payment or any major repairs. So I went to bed, stewing from the Ravens loss and the impending bad news about my car.
Mondays have a bad feeling about them no matter what, but slogging through my work that morning felt even worse with the car trouble hanging over my head. I finally called the garage to find out the diagnosis and received the best and worst possible news.
I ran out of gas.
That was it. Nothing broke or burned up or fell off. I just tried to push my luck and lost. I swear I thought I had another good 20 miles in the tank. I have driven pretty far without needing to fill up before.
I had never run out of gas before. I have come close, but never gone all the way to the bottom. I guess everyone has to cross this bridge once in their life. The “Low Fuel” light must have come on earlier than I recall on my drive home the previous Friday. I only had a few errands to run on Saturday, but must have misjudged how far I traveled.
That’s why I conked out on the way to church. Maybe I should have prayed more before we left.
I’ve play chicken with that gas-related quandary on more than one occasion. I haven’t been on the wrong end yet, but man, there have been times….
I laughed a few times through this article, if for no other reason that I’ve run the gas out of just about everything, from bikes to trucks to tractors. Trust me, it doesn’t suck any less after the first time:)