My son drove the Honda to wrestling practice last night. It is about 50 miles for the whole trip.
When he got home, he was thoughtful enough to tell me that the car was almost out of gas rather than letting me discover this fact when I left for work this morning. I don’t know why he didn’t put gas into the car. Anyway…
I told him that was fine. I had to take the truck because I couldn’t figure out how to fit three tires inside the Honda.
I had been home for about 45 minutes when my phone rang…
“Hello…”
“Hey, Dad…where are you?”
“Home.”
“I don’t know what happened but the car didn’t tell me and it ran out of gas.”
????????
“The light never went on!”
I didn’t think that work but I was never willing to drive to the end of the tank to find out. Now I don’t have to. My son had done my exploring for me.
“Dude, you told me last night that the car was out of gas.”
“I know. Can you come help me?”
I had just started heating water for my before bed cup of tea. I was actually looking forward to getting to bed on time for the first time this week.
But, NOOOOOOO…
My son needs me to come and help him because he must not have listened to HIMSELF when he told ME that the car was out of gas!
Where are our gas cans? We had three of them when we lived in LA…
Down to the storage facility…
I hope I can get in…
Great…
Where are our gas cans? I don’t see any of them. Shoot! Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing them in the fourteen times that I have reorganized our stuff.
Over to Walmart…
To the area with the “Cars and Trucks” sign over it…
I don’t even know how to describe the stuff that was there but it had nothing to do with cars and trucks.
I went to the area that where the “Cars and Trucks” sign formerly was hung.
Ah, there it is.…WHAT IS THIS????
The gas can comes with operating instructions! I am not kidding.
I AM NOT buying a gas can that I have to learn how to operate! Just give me one that I can fill up and pour out! That’s it!
My phone rang…it’s my son…
“Dad, I don’t know how it happened but I just decided to start the car and there is gas in it now and we are driving down the road at 70 MPH.”
“Where are you?”
“1/2 mile from home.”
My mind starts racing. If he is 1/2 mile from home, then he is driving 70 MPH on our street????
“Where are you?”
“1/2 mile from home.”
I am already not real happy that I am looking for a gas can at Walmart when I would have been asleep if only my son would have been a little less polite and eavesdropped on his own conversation with me last night. Now I am getting impatient.
“What street are you on?”
“The freeway!”
At this point, I lost a little of my ability to modulate the volume of my voice. Even though I was in the middle of Walmart, I didn’t really care all that much.
“How can you be 1/2 mile from home and still be on the freeway?”
“Noooo. I’m a half mile from Holmes!”
I stayed on the phone long enough to hear him get off the freeway, run out of gas again and push the car with his friend into the gas station.
