Yesterday I pumped gas for the very first time. Ever. This was just about the last on my list of things I'd resolved never to do. But, I pulled into the gas station, pulled up to the pump, and no one bounded out to fill my car up. No one slowly shuffled out either. I was on my own, with a cell phone that was almost dead. I called Jon, panicking, begging him to talk me through (or down, which ever the case was). First, my debit card didn't work - took 5 swipes through the pump before I could even start. I pulled the pump out, flipped up the lever only to find I couldn't get the cap off the gas tank. I swear it was glued into place, although now it seems an unlikely possibility. I checked with Jon at every step, making sure I wasn't going to fill the backseat or blow up the station. Surprisingly, I survived. The tank is full. The car and I made it back to the block in time to get a parking spot. And now I can say I've pumped. I doubt I'll ever do it again.
2 comments:
My father--pretty macho guy--NEVER pumped his own gas. He hated the smell. One great thing about NJ? No self-service at the gas station. They HAVE to pump it for you.
I like your writing style! I'll come back and check out the rest.
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