My car is being worked on right now so I’ve been driving my dad’s Jimmy for the past few days. He forgot to mention that the gas gauge is completely whacked.
So, after stopping by Chick-fil-A for supper tonight, I found myself on the exit near Wal-Mart when the vehicle completely died. I sat there, stunned. I have absolutely never run out of gas. Had a few close calls- but I’ve always managed to coast into the gas station. Well, everyone began honking and I began giggling in frustration because I couldn’t find the hazard lights.
I called my dad and he said, “oh, yeah…I should have told you that if you get below half a tank it will die.”
So, I rolled down the windows, turned the music up and spread my chick-fil-a sandwich, fries, cheesecake, and Dr. Pepper out and had a little picnic. I felt a little ashamed to be having such a good time at the expense of all the traffic around me, but I was very hungry.
Quite a lot of men stopped to ask if I needed help but I assured them that help was on the way. My favorite was a young boy who probably wasn’t even 17. He swaggered over in his best manly way, hands on his hips, and asked me in a southern drawl, “ma’am, I’d be more than honored to help you.” I wanted to offer him some fries but I figured that would be sort of weird so I just said, “someone is on the way, thanks” and waved him on.