I need the gas man.
Or gas can - Ah hell - just get me some help! Since my stupid electrified car is in the shop - I had to borrow my buddy R***’s car to drive to C. Springs to do a little computer work for my pops. R*** is not only my roommate but also my bathroom mate. He left a note in front of my sink this morning with the key to his car - “Call me before you take my car, IMPORTANT”. ‘Ok Rick,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’ll give you a call’.
So I’m on the horn with ol’ Rickles later in the afternoon and he informs me that the gas gauge in the ol’ blazer isn’t working properly. ‘Of course, why would it?’ I silently wondered to myself. But he quickly explained that this was not much of an issue since there are other ways to tell if the car is about to run out of gas.
1. If the digital thingamagoo on the roof said that 17 gallons had been used (18g tank)
2. If the trip mileage reached 300 miles.
So on the way back to my parents house I nail 16 gallons used and 240 miles and I figured I should give Rick a call to brush up on the gas rules. No answer, no big deal. Rick calls back at 16.5 gallons used and 10 miles from my parents home. “Ten miles, no problem - just don’t wake up tomorrow and drive another ten miles before filling up”. That made me a bit weary - considering we weren’t dealing with an exact science or anything. Seems like there should have been a +/- 20 miles clause on all parts of our conversation considering this was sounding more and more like some sorta complex guestimation scheme.
Well, let’s just call it intuition - I figured I better be safe than sorry so I rocked off I-25 at the Monument exit. They’d (CDOT) been doing all sorts of construction on this ramp for a few years and it appeared as if it had just recently been 
completed. ‘What a bunch of morons,’ I’m thinking, ‘Why in the sam hell would they build a ramp that goes all the way past the damned town and then loop it back?’ I’m rockin’ the curve a quarter mile south of monument thanks to the construction genius of some lowly contractor when the car refuses to accelerate. Yeah, I pushed the gas and the car slowed down. Counter-intuitive right? Well I usually can put two and two together pretty quick - but it took me a few moments to realize that I was out of gas as Dingleberry’s car accelerated to a stop. I was feeling pretty lame. I glanced up at the roof thingamajingy - 16.8 gallons used. I looked at the trip mileage - 258 miles. ‘Son of a expletive’ I thought to myself sitting in pure darkness on an off ramp in the middle of nowhere. I could barely make out a 7/11 sign in the distance screaming: $2.69. Please shoot me.
Luckily I wore my running flip flops tonight - I jogged the half mile or so while dodging traffic b/c crosswalks don’t exist where pedestrians shouldn’t be. And yes, to top off the night I celebrated by pouring half of the gas can on my foot. Stupid gas can spout. And so much for intuition, huh?
Filed by ryanroth at August 30th, 2005 under Life