Fumes & Faith

My drive home from work today was interesting, to say the least.

Let me preface this story by saying that this morning I was running late for work. I had gone to the late service at church which generally allows me plenty of time after the service to make a break for work and still get there on time. Today, the service got out at normal time, so I had 20 minutes to get to work that would normally be 10 minutes away. Due to an accident, there was a roadblock on the road that is my straight shot to work, so I had to drive 10 minutes out of my way to avoid it.

I was cutting it close. I really should have stopped for gas this morning, too, but I just didn’t have the time. That would have made me late, so I didn’t stop.

Fast forward to 6 o’ clock when I was getting off work. I walked out to the parking lot, turned on my car, and looked at my gas gauge. I was one little dashed line away from being in the red zone.

There’s a gas station midway between work and my house. No problem. I thought I would just stop there, get my gas, and be on my merry way.

Or so I thought.

About halfway to the gas station, my low fuel light came on. I don’t know about you guys, but when that light comes on, I start to worry. That’s probably due to the fact that I’ve completely run out of gas before in the middle of an intersection (that was back in high school when I was slightly less wise and thought I knew everything).  But I vowed to never be that stupid again. Never again would I be so dumb and run out of gas just because I didn’t stop at a station when I needed to. NEVER AGAIN.

So anyway, when my low fuel light came on, I straight up started praying. God, please don’t let me relive this horror again. I’ve done it once in this lifetime and that was plenty. 

I kid you not, you guys. I pulled up to this gas station and drove to the pump that was closest to me. As I was reaching over to put my car in park, I incidentally looked up at the pump’s screen. It had a little sheet of white paper stuck to it with a note that said, “Sorry. No power.” Ok, no problem. I pulled around to the next pump, looked up at the screen, and saw a replica of the same note that the first pump had. “Sorry. No power.”

Suddenly, it dawned on me to look around at all the other pumps.

You guys, I was in a “Sorry. No Power.” hell. (Cue Bernard Herrmann’s music from “Psycho”)

Due to the roadblock that I talked about earlier, the nearest gas station now was the one down the street from where I work.

But that was back there. Like, back where I started.

God, I know you have a sense of humor. Please don’t be funny today. Sincerely, Desperate.

I was freaking out. Don’t judge me.

By the time I got to the gas station by my work, I swear my car was running purely on fumes and faith. But I made it. I didn’t have to relive that awful high school memory.

Moral of the story: Stop procrastinating. Get gas when you need it, Stupid.

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