Yesterday morning, I got into the car to drive my daughter to the school-bus stop, looked down at my dashboard to read the temperature outside and saw "LOW FUEL" displayed.
Rear defroster already on, I turned the car around and pulled to the end of the driveway for the dim sunlight to help melt ice crystals stuck to my front window. Even though I did not know the exact temperature, I knew I did not want to scrape ice off the window in my red, satin pajamas and overstuffed coat (which, by the way, is charcoal grey and color-coordinates nicely with my PJ's). Still, I needed to get Anne to the bus stop in time to catch her bus. So when the time for her bus' arrival drew near, I drove her down the hill regardless of the ice crystals on my windshield.
As the car, refusing to change out of second gear, crested the hill Anne said, "Too Late."
Subfreezing air whooshed into the cab as she asked, "How do you open the gas cap again?"
I lifted my arm in her direction and twisted off an imaginary gas cap. "Righty-tighty, Lefty-loosey," I instructed.
"Credit or debit?" She handed my card back to me.
"Credit."
Anne closed her door and turned to the pump to press the credit key. Then she turned back and opened her door again.
"Can I have your card back? It timed out."
I shivered and handed her my card. She turned back to the pump to swipe it again and press more buttons. But before she did, I motioned and called through the window, "PUT THE LEVER DOWN FIRST." She did as instructed.
I looked down at my gas gauge. Pump nozzle in the gas tank and gas paid, it should start to rise soon. My gas gauge remained motionless. I looked up and over at Anne. She was standing in front of the pump, staring at the computer display.
I surrendered any hope of staying warm and got out of the car.
Walking around the tailgate, I asked, "What's the matter?"
"It won't authorize."
Two minutes later, the gas was paid and I was sitting in my car again. Anne was again fumbling with the gas hose and nozzle.
She opened her door, "How do you get the handle lever to stay up, again? I can't get it to stay up."
Now, in the olden days when I was a kid, we had to stand and hold the handle as the gas pumped. But I did not tell Anne that. I just got out of the car again and fixed the problem. Fortunately, that was the end of my role in filling up my gas tank...except the part where I reminded Anne to screw the gas cap back on the car.
My gas tank full, I was now able to read the temperature. It was -7F (-22C). As we drove out of the gas station towards Anne's school, she remarked, "I cannot believe it took 18 minutes to fill the gas tank."
I shrugged as I smiled, thinking, "That's not so bad. I stood outside in -7 degrees in these thin pajamas for 18 minutes to teach my daughter how to fill a gas tank when I could have just filled it myself in about 3 minutes."
This summer, Anne will definitely be practicing how to fill my tank.
The car chugged a complaint as I twisted the key before its engine began to quickly purr. A few seconds after I turned the engine over, Anne hopped into the cold car, ready to go. The car, however, was not so ready.
Rear defroster already on, I turned the car around and pulled to the end of the driveway for the dim sunlight to help melt ice crystals stuck to my front window. Even though I did not know the exact temperature, I knew I did not want to scrape ice off the window in my red, satin pajamas and overstuffed coat (which, by the way, is charcoal grey and color-coordinates nicely with my PJ's). Still, I needed to get Anne to the bus stop in time to catch her bus. So when the time for her bus' arrival drew near, I drove her down the hill regardless of the ice crystals on my windshield.
As the car, refusing to change out of second gear, crested the hill Anne said, "Too Late."
A quarter mile in front of us, the bus' tail lights disappeared around a bend in the road. Well, that was fine. I just drove down the road a little ways to where the sun could shine on my window some more and I pulled off to the side of the road until my windshield ice started to melt. I did get some strange looks from cars passing me on our subdivision roads (note that nobody stopped to ask if I needed help) and it took about five minutes for my engine to get to the point where it could blow out tepid air, but the car easily switched gears when the engine was warmer.
I stopped at the gas station before I got to Anne's school. When I stopped the car beside the pump, Anne unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped out of the car to pump my gas. This was unusual, so I commented as I handed her my glove to wear.
Anne responded, "Well, I figure that since I am the only one who is dressed..." as she grabbed my credit card and opened her door.
Here is where the story gets a little funny. (Remember, the reason Anne is pumping the gas is that I am in my pajamas and she is doing me a good turn so that I do not have to get out of the car.) Anne closed her door and went to open my gas cap. She flipped the little gas cap door open and fiddled for a while. Then she came back to open her door again.
I lifted my arm in her direction and twisted off an imaginary gas cap. "Righty-tighty, Lefty-loosey," I instructed.
Anne's lips tightened as she closed her door and turned back to the gas cap. Apparently, it opened for her because she turned to the pump and lifted the nozzle. Then she swiped my card, pressed some buttons, and came to open her door again. More icy air infiltrated the already cold cab.
"Credit or debit?" She handed my card back to me.
"Credit."
Anne closed her door and turned to the pump to press the credit key. Then she turned back and opened her door again.
"Can I have your card back? It timed out."
I shivered and handed her my card. She turned back to the pump to swipe it again and press more buttons. But before she did, I motioned and called through the window, "PUT THE LEVER DOWN FIRST." She did as instructed.
I surrendered any hope of staying warm and got out of the car.
Walking around the tailgate, I asked, "What's the matter?"
"It won't authorize."
Two minutes later, the gas was paid and I was sitting in my car again. Anne was again fumbling with the gas hose and nozzle.
She opened her door, "How do you get the handle lever to stay up, again? I can't get it to stay up."
Now, in the olden days when I was a kid, we had to stand and hold the handle as the gas pumped. But I did not tell Anne that. I just got out of the car again and fixed the problem. Fortunately, that was the end of my role in filling up my gas tank...except the part where I reminded Anne to screw the gas cap back on the car.
My gas tank full, I was now able to read the temperature. It was -7F (-22C). As we drove out of the gas station towards Anne's school, she remarked, "I cannot believe it took 18 minutes to fill the gas tank."
I shrugged as I smiled, thinking, "That's not so bad. I stood outside in -7 degrees in these thin pajamas for 18 minutes to teach my daughter how to fill a gas tank when I could have just filled it myself in about 3 minutes."
This summer, Anne will definitely be practicing how to fill my tank.
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