Not Running on Gas

Stardate 64280.1
15:18 - The first time I ran out of gas happened in June of 2009; my then boyfriend, Gabe, rescued me from the infernal grips of the Texas heat. Camped in lot 61 on campus, I cursed the fact that I forgot to fill up my tank and my cheap idea of not filling up my tank the whole way the last time.  For those of you not familiar with the state of lot 61 at this time, lot 61 was equated many a time to the infrastructure of Baghdad with its incredibly large potholes and its sharp, rusted metal objects thrown about. In all seriousness, I trembled as my car would traverse over the pothole craters in fear of an improvised explosive device (IED) detonating in that sorry excuse of a parking lot.

This incident caused me to invest in a two gallon gas can to remain in my trunk for all of eternity 'just in case'. I say investment, but I am not so sure on the returns to this 'investment'. Since purchasing the can, I have been stuck in parking lots and at the corner of Harvey and Texas Ave more times than I care to count, and I wonder: did this gas tank pay for itself by me being prepared or was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Because if I gambled, I would say that this scourge of a gas tank created perverse incentives for me to run out of gas by giving me the independence to do so without going through the embarrassment of calling upon my friends for help. This past night was no exception, with the gage at 'E', I swung by my sister Kim's dorm (or a location near her dorm to save on gas). Being warned of the precarious situation we found ourselves in, she knew the drill of a rolling stop and executed it with style. I made it home safely, only by not going over 2 on the r/min and rolling through stops to prevent from idling out. However, later that night (around midnight), I had to use my blasted gas tank to refill my tank in order to bring my friend ice cream. To which, I admit was bad form on multiple levels and more proof of the gas tank's incentive perverting nature. At least, I did not have to contend with the embarrassment of not having enough gas in my tank when I left my friend's place.