Out of Practice
Tuesday June 26, 2007 | 5 comments
I decided to do a grocery run on Sunday, to stock up on things that would sustain us during this very important week in our lives. Husband was attacking Hebrew with a vengeance, so it was good to get out of the house and give him some breathing space.
On the way to the store, I realized that we forgot to fill up our car earlier that morning. It wasn’t completely empty, but getting pretty close. Like, a hair away from empty. We like to push our car’s limits and see what we can get away with. It usually doesn’t let us get away with much, though. Funny how cars are that way.
Being the good and responsible wife that I am, I didn’t feel it would be right to return the car with an almost empty tank for husband to use the next morning. So, I pulled into a gas station. And this is where things got tricky, people. I found that gas stations and I don’t mix well.
Let me premise this by saying that I haven’t had to fill up our car for over a year. Even before I left for Europe for eight and a half months, I rarely ever did it because I have an amazingly awesome husband who always took care of it. But I figured, filing up your car with gasoline isn’t rocket science. If you’ve done it once, you’ve done it a thousand times. Right? Wrong!
First of all, I had trouble getting close enough to the pump. So, after backing up and pulling forward, I finally got within reach of a nozzle. Then, I took a few minutes to figure out which way to turn my bank card in the little slot. The pump kept insisting that I take the card out of the slot “quickly,” so I am sure I looked spastic, waving that card around.
Once I finally figured out payment, the pump told me to press some button I have personally never heard of in my life and “begin fueling.” I looked the pump up and down. I pressed every surface on the pump that seemed like it could be a button of some sort. I even pressed the big shiny yellow square with number 87 on it. I’m not proud of that.
I couldn’t bring myself to call my husband. Not after I had already called him to ask which number gas to put in the car. At that point the nozzle was already hanging off the side of my car and I was frantically touching the pump in all kinds of inappropriate ways in search of the button. Finally, I gave up and decided to ask the attendant inside for some help.
When I explained my situation, he looked at me like I had an extra eye on my forehead. A big, nasty eye. I could tell he was trying to figure out in his mind how someone is able to drive a car, but cannot fill it up. Finally, he told me that I needed to push up the lever that holds the nozzle. Ah! That’s right, now I remember.
I only share this utterly humiliating brain-fart of a moment in hopes that I am somehow not alone in this. And, if I am, I hope you get a good laugh out of it.
{ Speak Your Mind }
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Since I drive the car we fill with veggie oil, I never have to to go the gas station either. I am in fear that the same thing is going to happen to me next time I am in a position where I have to fill up a car with real gas at a station. What kinds of technology might they have come up with by that time that will confuse me??!!
Very, very funny! You are not alone. I had a similar story. Coming from the othe side of the world, how would I know that I need to pull that thing? And gas station pesonnel people were not in hurry to help me out at all.
I feel good that it’s not just me.
You are really good with words and with describing funny situations. I enjoy reading your little stories.
Olga from Florida: Thanks! Your praise is music to my soul. I am also glad I am not alone in this because it was quite an embarrassing moment. Glad to keep you entertained.
I wish I could have been there Olga!! That is great. Your husband should praise you ALL THE MORE for your couragous venture and for a good story telling material. Girl, you make me laugh!
Niki: I’m glad you found my story funny. My husband did appreciate me, after he had a good laugh about my silliness.