Fuel Crisis

This morning my husband gave me gas cap lessons. Now I have new possibilities, a new outlook. My regular car has been hijacked by my daughter. (With my permission, but still.) So lately I've been driving Paul's truck for errands.

Thing is, in 8 years, I've never learned to put gas in it. The gas cap has this trick lock mechanism that has left me throwing up my hands, blinking my eyelashes, and asking the nice gas station attendant - if he would mind, kindly helping me with this for a minute?

That has gotten old with me, and I haven't wanted to drive the truck, for fear of running out of gas and not being able to put any back in. Or, in driving, I'll coast down the hills, and be very reluctant about ever pressing the gas pedal.

I'm thinking how having a vehicle, without the possibility of fuel, is useless.

Many writers have fine rigs. Shiny and impressive, with leather accessories - sure. But many writers struggle with unlocking the gas cap. They don't know how to put fuel in the darn thing. So they give up altogether. They don't go where they dream of going: too much trouble. What precious little fuel they have, they must conserve.

Ah, but when you know there is a ready supply of the thing you need - and you've tapped the secret of the lock, you can rev, baby. Rev.

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