I Have Gas

I never thought that I would live long enough to see the day when there was any type of gas shortage in the country. When I hear the stories of days gone by from my childhood and read the history books in regards to people having to wait in line for gas and the rationing and only being able to purchase fuel on certain days of the week, I find it to be unbelievably odd. In this day and age of technology and excesses, it seems inconceivable that any American with proper funds would be without fuel for their vehicles.

That all being said, taking into account who I am and what type of luck that usually befalls me, I should have known better. When I left for work yesterday morning I glanced down at my gas gauge. The gasoline left in my tank from my purchase the previous Friday had dwindled down so far that I could easily make it to work but in no way could I have made it back home. I considered stopping at all of the usual locations in town but decided that I did not want to risk being late for the start of work. So I drove on by them.

It was my plan to gas up in Nashville near the airport which is only a stones throw from my building. As I exited Interstate 40 onto Donelson Pike, I noticed that the filling stations on both sides of the road had pulled down their gasoline prices and wrapped their pumps in yellow caution tape. I turned the corner to head to my final destination and passed my usual Shell station that must have been the only place in the area with fuel as it looked like a shark tank at feeding time. People were basically blocking the road and each other from entering or leaving the parking lot. I decided that I wouldn’t fight the craziness and just get gas after work. It never crossed my mind that the entire region may run out during my business hours.

Now let’s fast forward to 4:00 pm. As I started my wife’s car in the work parking lot I noticed that my fuel gauge was extremely low and the light was flickering to warn me of impending doom. I knew that I must obtain gas soon or feel the wrath of an angry vehicle. Just for your information, cars don’t tend to run properly sans petroleum products and my car was screaming for some. I drove intently towards the Shell station that had been throwing out the chum to sharks that morning only to find that those damn sharks had taken it all, even this station was wrapped in yellow tape. This made my stomach sink into oblivion.

I decided to take a chance and push the limits of science and putter along the interstate system on my way to pick up my wife at work and get gasoline out there in Brentwood. After driving slower than your average bear and sweating nervously in fear of getting stranded, I picked up my wife and glanced over the area for filling stations. They all had yellow tape and the prices removed from their signs. It wasn’t looking good for me. With a brief hesitation I jumped back onto the interstate deciding to drive south towards Thompson’s Station in search of the ever elusive petrol.

I kept having the phantom feeling in my wife’s car that it was sputtering. The gas light had gone from flicker to full shine to fluorescent to blinding. It wasn’t kidding anymore. We passed the exits for Franklin and it appeared that they may be out of gas as well. Also, I figured that other people had the same inclination that I did and would be making a direct path to these more accessible stations. I planned to get off in the Peytonsville Road area of Williamson County as I knew there were several stations located in a small area and one of them was a bit on the rural side. One of them must have gas.

I pulled off of the exit and passed two stations on my right hand side. The first was completely skint of fuel, engulfed with yellow caution tape. The one next to it, a Scot Market, was empty of customers but did have a tanker truck sitting in its parking area. I thought it may be best to drive to the far station that was not visible at the exit where less people would be. Of course that one was empty and it was at that moment that I feared I would not be getting home without some assistance from my sister-in-law. I drove back towards the Scot Market and the tanker truck and realized that other people were pulling in and taking up residency at the pumps. I grabbed pump number six for my very own.

Upon entering the building I asked one of the employees if they were about to turn on their pumps. It was told to me that within 5 minutes we could get gas. So we grabbed some snacks and sodas and tallied our wares. I told her that I needed $20 bucks on pump number 6 for when the pumping would begin. This is where I began to lose my mind. She proceeded to inform me that of the 8-10 pumps in their establishment, number 6 was the only pump that did not work and sorry for my damn luck.

At this juncture of the game, the entire parking lot was nose to tail with vehicles. No one was able to get in or out of this place. I had almost zero gas and was sitting next to a pump that did not work and would not be able to get into line for another pump or even leave the place to look for another station. I was pissed. I pulled away from the pump and parked in the lot. I walked back into the building again, all the while spewing anger and curse words that would make paint peel, plopped down my debit card and bought a pack of cigarettes. It turns out that this little tantrum would be the best thing for my situation.

While standing outside of the building puffing on the smoky heaven that is nicotine, I struck up a conversation with the lady using pump number 7. Long story (that is getting longer by the second) short, I was able to convince her to block other people from taking her pump when she was done and I could zip right into it and pump some gas. Then the guy next to her said that he would finish first and with a bit of vehicular maneuvering I could get his spot. So about three 12-point turns later I was right behind this gentleman and he blocked the rest of the cars from taking his spot and I was right at the pump.

So luckily I managed to get my tank filled and make it home without incident. When I drove through the boondocks that is my hometown, I noticed that every single gas station had gasoline. It was just my luck, of course. Well, I learned a very valuable lesson yesterday. During this time of crisis within in the world of petroleum, at no time will I leave for work without having enough gasoline to get me all the way back home. You should do the same.