Here's a little taste of my life. I drive an Xterra nearly 100 miles a day to Salt Lake and back Monday through Friday. Hence, the gas station is not my favorite place. So late Saturday night, when the gas light flashed on (well, gulp, it had been on for a while, I admit), running to a gas station was at the bottom of the list. Then Sunday rolled around. No trip to the gas station, duh.
And as it happens every week, the weekend disappears (rats!) and it's just another manic Monday (I wish it was Sunday...). I hop in the car at 6:40 a.m. and drive half a block to the longest light ever. I wait and wait. My engine sounds stranger and stranger. "Oh, please, please let me make it to the gas station" I continue to pray and encourage our tough Xterra to keep chugging along when - the light turned green! Yes. I start my left hand turn and.. stop. Nothing.
I look up, a police man.
Great. I'm blocking traffic, out of gas and will now get a ticket for it.
Well Staley, nothing else to do but book it!
As the cars start honking behind me, I sprint from my car to my front door. I almost got hit by a car on the way, and I can't imagine what all the other drivers were thinking when they saw this mad-girl in a maxi skirt race from/desert her broken car.
To cut to the chase, the policeman who I so feared helped us push our car out of the road, drove Michael to the nearest station and jumped our car for us when it wouldn't start after the sip of gasoline we gave it.
I arrived at work 1 hour later already out of gas - figuratively. And that's why, Obama, we have got to keep these gas prices lower!
Lesson #1: The Lord knows how far to let our cars go until they should die, and He knows to keep them close to home when helpless women are driving them.
Lesson #2: Gas prices stink. I now take the bus.
Agreed. Thank you, Post-it note advocate.
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