Bet you regret your hooge ass car now, eh?
I'm mean, I know.
Hasn't it seemed like the price of gas has taken over at least 20% of the conversation lately? Topics such as "That evil evil henchman Karl Rove" or "Britney Spears's Poor Forthcoming Destined to Be Screwed Up Child" have been abandoned in favor of "'Cheap' gas spotted out at Short Pump!" and "How Much I Spent on Gas Yesterday" and "In [Somewhere Else], They're Rationing Gas!!!"
Yesterday, someone informed me that gas would go over $3 today (note to non-Richmond readers: gas is comparatively cheap in the 804, so try and put yourselves in my shoes) (or car, rather.) That morning on the way to school, I had seen it at $2.55, so a 45c increase just didn't seem feasible, possible or plausible to me. Because I'm an idiot. As I uttered the famous last words- "Dood, I can't believe that" - I faintly heard the ominous rumble of thousands of gas station owners dragging out their ladders and rooting around the number drawer for the foot-tall 3's.
So the gas increase was the topic of much conversation yesterday, with reminiscences of my parents telling me about the 70's gas crisis and their ill-timed road trip cross-country as well as the creative gas-saving tips of others like finding roads without stop lights/signs so you never have to break if you pay really close attention to the other drivers (which sounds just downright fun. and slightly illegal.) And you could also play the amusing game of driving down Broad taking note of the prices, then driving back a half-hour later and watch the prices magically jump at least 20c. In the half-hour of waiting, you could also speculate on what is now cheaper by the gallon than gas: milk? tang? Boone's Farm?
Last night after we walked around the Fan in the gloaming, Vick made the proposal that we visit Target (sidenote: I think it's neat that they bought every ad in the New Yorker a few weeks ago- neat and canny, because even those of you who think it was dumb still thought about it, rt?) (And I am far more likely to visit Target than I am to ever buy a hand-crafted "flying pigs" bracelet or perfect safari hat). So we hopped in the 'trix and got in a good 15 minutes of Target time (deadline buying + forgetting favorite gym pants at home-home = walking out with two pair of what the brits call "track suit bottoms")
Then, as we drove to my secret cheap n' clean gas station, I hear "fopitafopitafopita" out of Vicky's window. Crap. You know and I know that repeated fopitas aren't the sound of a happy Matrix. But as the presence of other people often dulls my freak-out reflex, I thought "well maybe a seatbelt got caught in the door and is making a funny noise?" ahh, Delusion, my old friend. You've come to comfort me again.
Sure enough, we pull into the secret cheap n' clean gas station and Vicky points to my back passenger tire and says "Your tire's flat." And here's where the miracle occured. I said "Ok" and called my dad, who said "call Trip-A" and so I did, and then they told me it would be less than an hour, and so I called my dad back and he gave me advice on how not to be ripped off, and then I rang off and sat in the trunk-ish portion of my car. Then the guy showed up in 15 minutes, called us "dear" and "honey" and "sweetpea" while changing the tire, and then sent us on our way. And I felt calm and happy the whole time. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?
Maybe I don't give myself enough credit. After all, I'm 24.5, I can handle a minor car problem. Heck, I can handle multiple minor car problems. I think I want to learn how to change my own tire so that next time I can handle it all on my own. Wouldn't that be kickass? Why don't we have classes in that?
Really, if I could have picked a time for my tire to go flat, I probably would have picked last night. I had Vicky to amuse me, a well-lit and unsketchy place to hang out while waiting, a very short wait time, a dead roach in the wheel well of my trunk (i blame yonkers), and a very capable tattooed gentleman to pop off the bad wheel and pop on the donut. And I think I'm just happier this year, I don't know why. It's nice.
The most awesomest part of the night? When we drove into the gas station, the low grade was $2.89. When we left? $2.99. [laughs with evil glee]
But in the light of the rising gas prices, I am seriously going to start walking to school at least once a week. It's only 4 miles or so. And I would be totally into a carpool if anyone from the Fan wants to do one. I have very flexible hours most of the time and I'll prolly force you to go to the gym with me if that is any sort of incentive.
And by a freaky coincidence (or not, as it's not like this is a uniquely julie problem), I bought the Bloc Party cd last night and what's the name of one of the tracks? "Price of Gas."
Hasn't it seemed like the price of gas has taken over at least 20% of the conversation lately? Topics such as "That evil evil henchman Karl Rove" or "Britney Spears's Poor Forthcoming Destined to Be Screwed Up Child" have been abandoned in favor of "'Cheap' gas spotted out at Short Pump!" and "How Much I Spent on Gas Yesterday" and "In [Somewhere Else], They're Rationing Gas!!!"
Yesterday, someone informed me that gas would go over $3 today (note to non-Richmond readers: gas is comparatively cheap in the 804, so try and put yourselves in my shoes) (or car, rather.) That morning on the way to school, I had seen it at $2.55, so a 45c increase just didn't seem feasible, possible or plausible to me. Because I'm an idiot. As I uttered the famous last words- "Dood, I can't believe that" - I faintly heard the ominous rumble of thousands of gas station owners dragging out their ladders and rooting around the number drawer for the foot-tall 3's.
So the gas increase was the topic of much conversation yesterday, with reminiscences of my parents telling me about the 70's gas crisis and their ill-timed road trip cross-country as well as the creative gas-saving tips of others like finding roads without stop lights/signs so you never have to break if you pay really close attention to the other drivers (which sounds just downright fun. and slightly illegal.) And you could also play the amusing game of driving down Broad taking note of the prices, then driving back a half-hour later and watch the prices magically jump at least 20c. In the half-hour of waiting, you could also speculate on what is now cheaper by the gallon than gas: milk? tang? Boone's Farm?
Last night after we walked around the Fan in the gloaming, Vick made the proposal that we visit Target (sidenote: I think it's neat that they bought every ad in the New Yorker a few weeks ago- neat and canny, because even those of you who think it was dumb still thought about it, rt?) (And I am far more likely to visit Target than I am to ever buy a hand-crafted "flying pigs" bracelet or perfect safari hat). So we hopped in the 'trix and got in a good 15 minutes of Target time (deadline buying + forgetting favorite gym pants at home-home = walking out with two pair of what the brits call "track suit bottoms")
Then, as we drove to my secret cheap n' clean gas station, I hear "fopitafopitafopita" out of Vicky's window. Crap. You know and I know that repeated fopitas aren't the sound of a happy Matrix. But as the presence of other people often dulls my freak-out reflex, I thought "well maybe a seatbelt got caught in the door and is making a funny noise?" ahh, Delusion, my old friend. You've come to comfort me again.
Sure enough, we pull into the secret cheap n' clean gas station and Vicky points to my back passenger tire and says "Your tire's flat." And here's where the miracle occured. I said "Ok" and called my dad, who said "call Trip-A" and so I did, and then they told me it would be less than an hour, and so I called my dad back and he gave me advice on how not to be ripped off, and then I rang off and sat in the trunk-ish portion of my car. Then the guy showed up in 15 minutes, called us "dear" and "honey" and "sweetpea" while changing the tire, and then sent us on our way. And I felt calm and happy the whole time. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT?
Maybe I don't give myself enough credit. After all, I'm 24.5, I can handle a minor car problem. Heck, I can handle multiple minor car problems. I think I want to learn how to change my own tire so that next time I can handle it all on my own. Wouldn't that be kickass? Why don't we have classes in that?
Really, if I could have picked a time for my tire to go flat, I probably would have picked last night. I had Vicky to amuse me, a well-lit and unsketchy place to hang out while waiting, a very short wait time, a dead roach in the wheel well of my trunk (i blame yonkers), and a very capable tattooed gentleman to pop off the bad wheel and pop on the donut. And I think I'm just happier this year, I don't know why. It's nice.
The most awesomest part of the night? When we drove into the gas station, the low grade was $2.89. When we left? $2.99. [laughs with evil glee]
But in the light of the rising gas prices, I am seriously going to start walking to school at least once a week. It's only 4 miles or so. And I would be totally into a carpool if anyone from the Fan wants to do one. I have very flexible hours most of the time and I'll prolly force you to go to the gym with me if that is any sort of incentive.
And by a freaky coincidence (or not, as it's not like this is a uniquely julie problem), I bought the Bloc Party cd last night and what's the name of one of the tracks? "Price of Gas."
posted by julia at
10:32 AM
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