A Story About Gas...

...not that kind of gas. Gasoline.

I am really, really good about keeping plenty of gas in my car. Really. My Dad always taught me to fill up when I had about a quarter of a tank left. I have never run out of gas before. I've been especially particular about my gas tank since I have a commute to work now. However, this past Thursday, I made an uh-oh.

First of all, let me show you what my gas gauge looks like (this is not my actual car, just a Google image, but you get the idea):

See the squares? Each little square turns off as my gasoline level decreases. When I get down to 2 squares, it means I have just under 2 gallons of gas left. I usually fill up around 5 squares. My cute little Honda gets about 25 miles to the gallon on the highway, which is fantastic. I work about 20-25 miles from home, and do quite a bit of driving around town during the day for my job.

Anyway, now that you have the logistics, I can explain what happened. I was at about 6 or 7 squares when I arrived to work on Wednesday morning, which is great. I headed back to town, and decided to swing by my parent's house for a bit before going home. On my way home, I noticed that I was down to 3 squares on my gas gauge! It was way past dark, and since I am such a weenie when it comes to the dark, I decided to go on home and leave a bit earlier the next morning to fill up before my commute.

I'm an idiot. I got on the interstate the next morning completely forgetting to fill up. I have 1 exit about 2 miles after my on ramp , but there are no immediate gas stations on that exit. After that exit, I have no options until I arrive in my designated county, which thankfully has a station as soon as I get off the ramp. Just as I passed my only exit option, my 3 squares went down to 2 and my gas light turned on. Uh-oh! I rolled my eyes at myself for forgetting, but was not worried about making it to my exit. I had about 16 miles to go, and as I said, my car gets about 25 miles per gallon. Since I had just under 2 gallons, I felt confident that I would make it with no trouble (even though I should never cut it that close.) So I drove along.

12 miles to go. My gauge quickly goes down to 1 square. I started to get worried then, because those stupid squares were just turning off way too fast! I called Jason. Jason reassured me I would make it with no problems.

Mile Marker 7. 1.2 miles to go. My FINAL square disappeared! I FREAKED! I called Jason again. I still had a mile or so until I made it to the gas station. I knew for sure that I was going to be stuck on the exit ramp, gas station in sight with no ability to reach it. I can only imagine my husband trying to hold in his laughter when I screamed: "I HAVE ZERO, COUNT THEM, NO YOU CAN'T BECAUSE THERE AREN'T ANY! MY GAS LINE IS EMPTY! I'M GOING TO BE STUCK ON AN EXIT RAMP LIKE AN IDIOT BECAUSE I AM AN IDIOT!"

I told him he was going to have to make the drive to help me push my car.

He finally laughed.

He told me that I'd make it.

I told him that he was dead wrong.

He asked if my car was sputtering.

I asked what that meant.

He laughed again.

I reminded him that I've never run out of gas before, so it wasn't my fault that I didn't know what sputtering was.

He told me that if I didn't notice anything different in my usual driving, then my car wasn't sputtering and that I would make it.

I made it. Just barely. Thank you Honda, for good gas mileage, even if your squares don't represent it. Thank you, Pilot Station, for being exactly where you needed to be.