For the remaining few months I remain here at WordPress.com I will blog like I used to; with storytelling.
Most cars I’ve owned, co-owner or driven were Hondas, Toyotas, Hyundais. They all have their fuel gas filler hole thingy (what is that thing called?) on the left, aka driver’s side.
I drive a GM-made car now, my dad’s 20-year old Saturn. The fuel gas filler hole thingy on this car is on the right.
Recently, like a couple of months ago, I noticed a very helpful indicator on the dash:
It tells you what side the fuel door is with a helpful little triangle pointing in the correct direction. (And now we know what it’s called.) 😀
Funny how I never saw that before.
Anyway, I had a thing happened at the gas station because that’s the way the cookie crumbles in my life.
Actually, several things happened yesterday. It’s been a day and a half but I’ll save my other adventures for another day.
So, I went to the gas station and pulled in next to the pump with the fuel door facing the pump. I stepped out of the car, got the payment thing sorted at the terminal, and when it prompted me to lift the nozzle and select my grade, I did.
It’s not rocket science. I’ve been driving for 37 years, I know how to pump gas.
The nozzle was in and I pressed Regular. I can’t afford nor want to pay for Premium so Regular was my preferred choice.
I waited for the prompt to tell me to start pumping.
I pressed Regular again and this time, the blue light activated above the word Premium.
I stared at it. I did not select Premium.
I pressed Regular again and Premium flashed me again and then the machine started talking to me to stop it and go consult with the cashier.
I didn’t want consult with the cashier. I wanted to pump regular grade gas.
Since I hadn’t yet pumped any gas and therefore hadn’t been charged, I climbed back in the car and looked for another pump. There were several occupied ones but one in the middle on the other aisle was available. (There were 9 pumps.)
I drove over, half expecting the cashier to come chasing after me.
I pulled up to the new pump, went through the song and dance with the payment terminal, got ready to pump and…
There was no fuel door on my car. It disappeared into thin air. 🥴
Took me a minute to realize I parked the wrong way.
This was 35 years of driving Hondas etc firmly anchored into a habit of presuming the fuel door was on the left…
So once again, I abandoned my pump, drove away to turn the car around, but of course by now someone else pulled into my spot and I had to drive to a third pump, keeping in mind that the fuel door was on the right and to position myself correctly.
I looked at the cashier house to see if the little man called the police or something, but nothing happened. I mean, it may have looked like some neurotic frazzled woman was trying to pump gas but I wasn’t neurotic, just a bit frazzled. If the pump at the first stop had dispensed the requested correct grade of gasoline I wouldn’t be running around like this.
By the time I finished pumping gas, the only other thing that gave me grief was the receipt. I had to press the button three times for it to finally spit out the proof of purchase.
I decided at that moment I deserved a latte, so off I went to a coffee shop in a bookstore located across the street at a high end mall.
Sadly, that wasn’t the end of my adventures that day. Stay tuned for the bra and panties fiasco at Winners. 😳
Thank you for reading my post today! I’m so happy to be sharing my words with you again. See you in the comments!