Written in the car waiting for 5 gallons of gas......
Thirty miles outside of town, late for the nephew's 17th birthday celebration, Sunday afternoon. The car sputters to a halt. Oh. My. Goddess. I haven't run out of gas since I was a freshman in college. Boy is it embarrassing.
If I had been driving, I would've noticed the gauge, but Excy is so tall, and the way the wheel is angled and the handicap knob is located, he seldom sees the dashboard on that side. I opted to be the passenger and to forgo my purse today. Thus, no cell. No phone numbers. Excy calls Triple A on his cell. I had told everybody we'd be late anyway from a prior engagement, so I opt not to call 411 and pay extra for looking up a cell number. But mostly I opted not to be the butt of jokes at my expense. I felt foolish enough.
My, we've certainly relied on Triple A this month, after years and years of membership and no activity. Let's hope they do better than 2 hours this time (see 'Indian Market' post). So far it's not impressive. The service they called for us is all the way downtown, and we are in the countryside 30 miles from the small town of Paron. He has no idea where we are but the main streets are easily recognizable. This is why we need On-Star, I sigh. We wile away the time catching up in conversation, playing 'hangman' (dork alert!), giggling over stupid drawings we make of each other....finally I begin writing my thoughts...
At least it's cool and windy, unlike the 100 degree weather we had outside of Abilene, TX the other week.
"I haven't run out of gas since college!" I complain. "Well, you have now," Excy points out.
Thank heavens I peed before we set out. But I'm really starting to regret that cup of coffee we stopped for at Coffee Beanery. With only a fourth of a kidney, I know most of the public stops in LR, and map my errands accordingly. There are no remote possibilities around here. And tall grass that promises lots and lots of chiggers and ticks.
By this time, four people had stopped by the road in TX to see if we had help coming or to offer water. No one here, yet. So much for Southern hospitality. Oh - finally. A hunter in a gimme cap. God bless, sir. A mom and her daughter. And -- yeah -- finally -- an hour and a half later, the deliverer of 5 gallons.
I wish I didn't feel so dumb, I explain. It happens more than you know, he replies. It happens to everyone.