Random Funny Quirk About Me
Okay, so there are a few things in life I just can’t manage to master or do well or do at all. I’m not ashamed to admit it and in fact, now I just find it laughable.
Might not seem like a big deal to you, but for me it’s a task I just can’t seem to manage. Let’s blame my dad and all the full service gas stations I grew up depending on.
See, my dad would occasionally take my car out on a quick errand if it was the last one parked in our single car driveway. Naturally if he saw the gas was low he would fill it up. It’s the little things ya know. I’m sure he started to notice that my car seemed to always need gas when he was the one to drive it, but that’s neither here not there. 🙂
Now, here I am, married to T.J. and guess what? I still don’t pump my gas.
We were a one car family for quite a while when we could use public transportation via the metro and bus system around DC. The one car we had was a stick shift, which I have no idea how to or desire to drive, so I never had to pump the gas.
Once we got a second car I still didn’t pump the gas. I would just tell T.J., “hey, my car needs gas” and he would fill it up.
Ask my friends if I pump gas and they will laugh out loud. So, if I’m with one of them and need gas guess who pumps? No me! The few times I have tried it have ended up in a good laugh for anyone watching.
I pumped gas a few weeks ago and actually documented the event on Facebook because it had been over a year since the last time my hand touched the pumps.
It went like this. Me staring at the pump. Did I pull the car up to the right side? Nope. Put my credit card here? Pull what? Push this up? Pick a year? Why isn’t this on? Is the gas coming out? Is it full? Huuuhhh???!!!!
Today, I needed gas. Gas light is on staring me in the face. And, I probably push it to the limit with that little light.
T.J. had today off so we went together. I drove to the station, pulled my car up to the pump and popped the trunk because that’s where the gas goes, no? T.J. closed the trunk and tapped the window and asked me if I could pull the OTHER lever. The one with the little gas tank on it. Riiiiiiight. Got it!
This is why I don’t pump gas. It’s that bad.
Next up, toast. I burn it.