Today I ran out of gas.
Luckily, I have honed some pretty substantial skills in the art of rolling. My practice began after I realized my car could get at least forty miles per gallon vis-á-vis minor alterations to my driving practices. For example, coasting up to stoplights and careening down hills without braking to achieve maximum distance on the green power of momentum. Save the Earth!
Since the commencement of my conservation campaign, I have noticed an increase in proximate incidents of road rage. Probably coincidental but worth mention for the purposes of statistical transparency and accurate reporting. Which I am well known for.
Admittedly, I grew cocky. The little low-gas warning light showed up while I was driving through a cow pasture in Titusville, NJ this morning. I have always considered the low-gas warning light somewhat of an alarmist. So I drove the whole way back up here and then took a tour of East Hanover.
I only made it half way home. At first, I thought the sputtering engine sound was an iPod malfunction. But suddenly my power steering turned off. I battled the wheel, channeling my superior strength to turn off the road into some guy's driveway.
The number of mosquitoes this early in the season surprised me. This was not the perfect day to be wearing pantyhose and standing by the side of the road. It took Tom half an hour to show up with a gas can.