A few years ago, on one of our frequent trips to see family in Chicago, at a point of boredom I suggested to the Curmudgeonette that running out of gas could be viewed as an adventure. How would I get gas? Who would I meet? Who might be the agent of mercy. The Curmudgeonette thought it was one of my dumber ideas so I never did run out of gas...until today, that is. I'm very glad she was along because with out her presence to verify the reality I would have seriously questioned my sanity...though perhaps many of you do have doubts if I'm sane.
We'd been in SD for a few days for farming, my five year all school reunion, visiting and entertaining family and the annual 4th of July celebration. As we headed back to Minneapolis my gas gauge showed about a quarter of a tank so I stopped in the first town, Volga, for a fill. While the gas was pumping I washed the windows. The pump stopped, asked if I wanted a receipt and, as I always do, pressed 'No', bought the Curmudgeonette a bottle of water and we were on our way.
After driving a few miles the 'low gas light' came on and I noticed that the gas gauge was close to empty. Perhaps it was a failure of the computerized gauge I thought. When I came to a stop sign at Ivanhoe, MN I shut the car off, waited 20 seconds and restarted it, thinking that might reset the computer. It did not.
Driving on I was bummed about the failure of the gauge. The gas monitor registered the decreasing range of miles left and soon reached zero. Mile after mile with the monitor on zero we drove...perhaps 40 miles.. offering me proof that the gauge was kaput.
About 80 miles from Volga the car stopped. The starter worked but the stoppage showed all the symptoms of running out of gas. A quick crawl under the car showed no sign of tank leakage. Wondering about my sanity I took out my smart phone and verified a charge on my credit card in Volga. While washing the windows I had not paid much attention to the pump but did notice that the pump showed $15.++ which seemed about right, given the gas in the tank and the price of gas.
To avoid traffic I've found a route of county roads that parallel #212 and avoid most of the towns. Now, stalled beside the road, the lack of traffic seemed less helpful. So, what's next on our little adventure? The Curmudgeonette pointed to mailbox and driveway about 50 yards ahead with any buildings obscured by a grove of trees. As I walked up the driveway I saw a man working on his pick-up. Explaining my plight to him, he, without even casting a skeptical eye when I told of filling up 80 miles previously, grabbed a gas can and drove me out to the car and put in three gallons. The engine sprang to life and the Good Samaritan refused payment telling me to "pay it forward." I'd certainly found my agent of mercy!
With the 20-20 of hindsight I should have gone to the station a block from where I had restarted the car by Ivanhoe and verified the gas gauge. Filling with gas at that juncture would quickly have verified the accuracy of the gauge. Following up with Volga gas station is the only way I know to solve the mystery. Perhaps in the future I'll always take the receipt and pay more attention to gas as it is pumped.
But, as our friend, JJ, points out, it is of such adventures stories are born.
No comments:
Post a Comment