I ran out of gas on the interstate this evening. That sort of half sucks. I mean, it's certainly not a tremendous amount of fun, but there's also that big rush of relief when you discover that your car is not egregiously fucked up after all. Just needed a li'l drinkie (like yours truly, after the week I's been having). I mean, in retrospect, it seems obvious that it was outta gas-- it started getting all "chuggy" acting, like it did that one other time a few years ago when I ran outta gas, and it was behaving just Wayne's car does in the nail-biting climactic ending of Wayne's World 2 (*SPOILER ALERT*:he ran out of gas). But at the time of the breakdown, I was thinking it could be **anything** and it sure felt like it HAD to be the most catastrophic of catastrophic vehicular failures. Yep..zero to panic mode in 1.3 seconds....c'est moi.
I first wanna point out, in my defense, that my car has looong had a busted sending unit and my gas light will oftentimes come on after I just filled my tank. Basically the gas gauge has no significance whatsoever. So I just hit the tripometer every time I fill up and then at around 300 miles travelled I fill it again. I mean, figuring I get 20 miles to the gallon (and I'm probably getting a bit better than that) with a 17 gallon tank, I would be able to go 340 miles on a full tank. So if I refuel everytime I hit 300, I'm giving myself a decent buffer. My tripometer today? Read 270 miles. What the fuck, right? I must not have filled the tank the last time I "filled up" (I don't really remember whether I did or not). That's the only way thing that makes sense though.
Oh, and in semi-related news. I thought MY BRAKES were going to shit last night. They sounded all hissy and the pedal was going down to the floor a bit further than it had been. Now I don't know if those are the usual symptoms of driving 13miles with your e-brake on, but that's what I did last night. Y'see, I went to my friend Roxanny's for dinner & a flick (I've been on a helluva Vincent Price kick, but last night we went for a cinematic change-o'-pace and watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang). Upon arrival, when I parked on her slopey driveway, I pushed down my e-brake pedal and thought "Don't forget you have your e-brake on!!" I know what you're thinking ...that I forgot. Oh, ye have little faith!! I did not back up so much as an inch without pulling that brake release lever...or..ummm...what I thought was the brake release lever. The brake release pull in my car is in the vicinity of my left knee (well, not where my left knee is now, but where it is when I am sitting in the driver's seat, stooopid!) And, just to the left of the brake release is the Open-the-hood pull. And that is what I pulled last night when I left Rox's . FAAAAAANTASTICO!! No, I didn't have a scary, hood-flying-up&obscuring-my-vision moment while driving (like in Tommy Boy....or was it Black Sheep....quite possibly Planes, Trains, & Automobiles) because of that brilliant little latchy deal. Though it was a bit of a scary moment when I hopped in the jalopy this a.m. to zip off to work and I spotted how the e-brake pedal was down to the floor. Holy Fucking Mother of Charles Nelson Reilly how badly did I fuck up my car last night??? The brakes seem to be working fine. I have detected no lasting damage from the e-brake faux pas....unless the e-brake drag caused me to expend 10X the normal amount of gas to drive that 13 miles than I normally would , thereby leading to this afternoon's predicament. But I really think that had to be me not filling up fully...had to be.
I thought the cigarette lighter was the automotive equivalent of an appendix, but now I'm rethinking that. I'm wondering if the fucking e-brake does ANYTHING at all...
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