Wednesday, November 05, 2003
A MOMENT TO REMEMBER: When I was driving home from an abortive second shift last night, I found something I remembered with nostalgia from a distant pre-war summer. In fact, I'm putting this amazing discovery on its own line so you can relish it with me.
Regular unleaded gas was $1.34 a gallon at the Citgo a few miles down the road from the university.
Yeah, I know, gasoline prices make for pretty weak nostalgia. It's not the smell of my great-grandmother's Sunday chicken dinners, but some days you take what you get. It seems like it was only a few summers ago that it was breathtakingly easy to find gas at 99 cents a gallon. Even though the price didn't last very long, it's something that still haunts my dreams...at least the ones that aren't about getting kicked in the face by strangers.
I realize that I'm taking a big risk by exposing such sensitive information to the people who don't usually hit this road, since it's on one of the regular routes I travel and the streets will probably be crowded with gawkers once the word travels. Pretty soon we'll have all sorts of rubberneckers jamming up the four-lane, some to actually buy gas, others to take pictures so their grandkids will have something to remember. Maybe a few will have an 8x10 print made to send to their relatives in other states, with nasty notes asking why they moved again. I'd add a hot dog vendor for the spectators if they didn't already sell franks inside the station, so we'll just have to settle for facepainting and Citgo the Clown making balloon animals for the kids.
Of course, when I think of gloating about anything, karma pops up like the shark from Jaws and bites me on the ass. For some reason, two of the three westbound lanes on the avenue I take to get home were closed off, and the sign that told us this was at least two miles from the tail end of the inevitable traffic jam. I decided at some point to take an alternate route, but had to figure out how to get around bumper-to-bumper wall of cars, which meant it took almost an hour and a half to make what's usually a 30 minute trip. I probably burned off any perceived savings in the process, which made my mental happy dance a moot point.
Still, when I winged the gas price bit into chat, Josh shot back with "Me and my 1.61 for midgrade both tell you to go f*** yourselves," which made it worth everything.
Regular unleaded gas was $1.34 a gallon at the Citgo a few miles down the road from the university.
Yeah, I know, gasoline prices make for pretty weak nostalgia. It's not the smell of my great-grandmother's Sunday chicken dinners, but some days you take what you get. It seems like it was only a few summers ago that it was breathtakingly easy to find gas at 99 cents a gallon. Even though the price didn't last very long, it's something that still haunts my dreams...at least the ones that aren't about getting kicked in the face by strangers.
I realize that I'm taking a big risk by exposing such sensitive information to the people who don't usually hit this road, since it's on one of the regular routes I travel and the streets will probably be crowded with gawkers once the word travels. Pretty soon we'll have all sorts of rubberneckers jamming up the four-lane, some to actually buy gas, others to take pictures so their grandkids will have something to remember. Maybe a few will have an 8x10 print made to send to their relatives in other states, with nasty notes asking why they moved again. I'd add a hot dog vendor for the spectators if they didn't already sell franks inside the station, so we'll just have to settle for facepainting and Citgo the Clown making balloon animals for the kids.
Of course, when I think of gloating about anything, karma pops up like the shark from Jaws and bites me on the ass. For some reason, two of the three westbound lanes on the avenue I take to get home were closed off, and the sign that told us this was at least two miles from the tail end of the inevitable traffic jam. I decided at some point to take an alternate route, but had to figure out how to get around bumper-to-bumper wall of cars, which meant it took almost an hour and a half to make what's usually a 30 minute trip. I probably burned off any perceived savings in the process, which made my mental happy dance a moot point.
Still, when I winged the gas price bit into chat, Josh shot back with "Me and my 1.61 for midgrade both tell you to go f*** yourselves," which made it worth everything.
|| Eric 7:12 AM#
