I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me: running out of gas is silly. Nowadays, pretty much everyone’s car comes equipped with a little gadget that indicates exactly how much gas is in the tank and, after many years of driving experience, some of us should know just how far that amount will get us.
Sometimes, though, we make grave miscalculations based on how close to the E (for empty) we’re getting in relation to how much/little we feel like forking over our hard-earned wages to the mercantile geniuses with an almost supernatural ability to profit from a world dependent on fossil fuels. We have various reasons and excuses for delaying the inevitable gasup. Maybe it’s raining. Maybe the price will be lower tomorrow. Maybe we’re trying to get home in time to let the dogs out before they ruin the carpet. Maybe the gas fairie will visit in the middle of the night and magically replenish the supply while we’re asleep.
In any case, sometimes it gets to the point where we’re driving down the interstate and we grimly realize that such folly in delaying has upped the potential consequences of our inaction. We curse and pray that we’ll make it to the next gas station down the way without having to rely on the gas can that we may or may not have in the trunk and a walk of several miles to make up for a very unnecessary mistake.
“Pray? But Chris, I thought you were agnostic or atheist or one of those kinds of people?”
There are no atheists on the highway with empty gas tanks.
Is the situation even more silly because I drive a Prius?