My Super Fun Adventure

One of the funnest things about our Honda CR-V is that the gas gauge lies [and p.s., isn't gauge the weirdest word ever? It totally isn't spelled the way it's pronounced]. Basically, when the little needle thing points to a quarter tank, that means it's empty. Once upon a time the fuel light would turn on when things got dangerous, but about a year ago it rebelled, meaning we now have to play the safe-so-we're-not-sorry game with our car and gas stations.

[I know--talk about heavy foreshadowing for disaster right there.]

Many times in the past [and by many I mean maybe twice], Sam has felt the need to push the needle to the limit, so to speak, and has ended up parked on the side of the road and walking to the nearest gas station. For quite some time, we had a handy little gas container thing in the trunk for just such occasions.

Well, last night was my turn.

I'm part of a writers group that meets every Thursday [except when we don't, like when no one's submitted anything], and when I was just about there last night I noticed that the gas gauge was at the precarious "1/4 tank" position. [This is more foreshadowing right here, in case you missed it.]

I thought, "No problem. I'll get gas on my way home."

So I went to my group and had a wonderful time, all the while being blissfully unaware of the tragedy about to befall me. We were only meeting in Orem, so I thought, "I should have enough gas to get to the station by my house. No problem. I don't need to go to the gas station so conveniently located right around the corner from my friend's house, where we're meeting. I'll be fine."

In case you haven't guessed it, I was not, in fact, fine.

I was driving on 2200 N, just before it became 900 E, when the CR-V lurched the first time. And I thought, "Oh no. I still have 7 or 8 minutes of driving time. No way I'm making it home." But then I thought, "There's sort of a gas station around here. I can probably make it there."

Not so much.

I made it to the MTC, then decided the car would go no further. And if it did, I'd be on a road with no emergency shoulder thing to pull on to when it decided it would go no further, and I didn't think anyone would appreciate my car being stopped in the middle of traffic. And I did not want to get out and push.

And let me tell you, the MTC parking lot? Totally the most awkward place in the world to be stranded without gas. I felt like everyone who looked at me as I was sitting in my car, trying to call Sam, thought I was there to try and corrupt the innocent missionaries who were just trying to train to do the Lord's work. But still, that was better than being stopped in the middle of a road.

So once I made it safely to a 30-minute parking spot, I tried calling Sam. Why didn't I just get out and walk? 1) The gas container was no longer in the trunk, so I would have had to get a new one. 2) I wasn't entirely sure of where the nearest gas station was. 3) Even if I'd had the gas can and known where the nearest station was, I didn't have any idea of what to do when I got there. 4) The flip-flops I was wearing would have given me a very uncomfortable feeling on the way there and definite, probably huge, blisters on the way back.

So, really, calling Sam seemed to be my best option. Only he didn't pick up the phone. By the time I ended the fourth call--all the while thinking of the supposed usefulness of cell phones--I determined that he was sitting outside, which he's been known to do when the weather is nice, and had left his phone inside. In desperation I called our landlady, who lives above us, but she wasn't home. And then, in utter desperation, I called our next-door neighbor.

Thankfully, she was home. And by "she" I mean one of my former Beehives (though, technically, she was never my Beehive, as she turned 14 before I was called, but I still consider her one of my girls) who happens to be my next-door neighbor. This is approximately how our conversation went:

Me: Hi. It's Holly.
Her: *surprised* Hi.
Me: So . . . can you go outside and look to see if Sam's there? I've been trying to call him, but I don't think he has his phone with him.
Her: *slight pause as she processes my statement and totally random request* Oh. Sure. Hold on. Yeah, here's there.
Me: *sighing in relief* Good. Can you ask him to call me?
Her: Sure.
Me: Thanks. You just saved my life.

The rest of the story isn't that interesting. Sam called me back and then got to be my hero and come to my rescue with a full gas can, and I made it home finally--after stopping at the closest gas station [which, p.s., was not where I thought it was at all] and filling up. And that, folks, was the end of my super fun and exciting adventure.

Though, to compensate for my traumatic experience [Does anyone else ever have problems with that word? Traumatic? I never spell it right the first time--that and tragedy. They ruin my life.], I watched the first two episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer from Netflix on my TV via my Wii [which is a whole other kind of exciting that I won't go into here--watching things on my TV from Netflix via my Wii, I mean]. So I guess that was the real end of my adventure.

So now you know--Sam's not the only one in the family who's gotten stranded somewhere with an empty gas tank. I'll just hang my head in shame right now. I deserve to be shunned.