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Dastardly is what she is.  Devious.  I fall for it all of the time.

“Why don’t you take the van?”

The van is her vehicle, by choice, comfortable and kind of hip in a soccer mom sort of way.  And the sucker sucks significant samples of Jed Clampett‘s Texas tea… oil that is.  Whenever she offers to let me take the van somewhere, usually to transport a child this way or that, it’s not because the kids like riding in our van.

The thirsty behemoth needs to be fed.

I can usually count on the gas gauge to be crying at me when I turn the key.  It was tonight.  The bright yellow gas pump symbol was blazing to the right of the dash display.  The digital gauge displayed nary a block over the E.  Our van was running on the last dregs.  But Alyssa had to be at the school for her concert and her friends were waiting to be picked up.

Please God.

I think the dad taxi literally ran on a prayer.  Of course, Alyssa’s friends were NOT waiting by the door.  We had to wait.  Every red light possible to encounter was indeed encountered.  The only thing that could have made the situation worse would have been needing to pee.  I found myself wondering if the van would run on urine.  One red light was so long that I wrote this entire blog in my head while waiting for it to turn green.

Which is sad in itself.  When did my life become a series of blog scenarios?  That means that I also had to snap a picture of the blank fuel gauge before I got out of the van to pump the gas.  Too bad it was taken with my ancient flip phone.

I made it.  Next time maybe I will think to ask if there is gas in the van before I agree to use it?  Probably not.  Driving it to the gas station gives me purpose, the satisfaction of having a reason to complain.  Or write a blog.  Or both.

Did I ever mention that another reason I started blogging was to complain about my wife?  Admit it, I bet there are a whole lot of fellow bloggers out there who blog just for that purpose.  We’re whiny wimps who would rather take the easier route of dumping our marital angst in a “safe” place.

I’ll save that discussion for another blog.

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