Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Low Fuel

Papparazi's Classified


Like many people I am not happy with the petrol price 96.9 pence per litre. Not happy at all. I was even more unhappy when yesterday there was absolutely NO garage opened for petrol.

On the way back from work, my tankometre is tinkering just above red, I thought, I’ll go later since the queue was snaking half a mile long out of the garage I usually go to. Who wants to sit in the car for an hour at least, just to get petrol just so they can go to work? Too kiasu la kan. If the price goes up that much, that people picket, that we don’t get the supply, that we can’t run our cars, that we have to stay at home (and to make matters worse, morons go and panic-buy till the tank in the garages drought off) what are we suppose to do? I believe in fate.

There is always some kind of balanced ecosystemic- like equilibrium around us, food chain, the money chain, the water chain. You have the bigs eat the smalls, the few eat the many, then you have product of obligatory wind letting getting inhaled back in, while product of crapping getting eaten again day in day out without us consciously thinking much about them. Not directly of course.

But my point is everything is in harmony because we don’t stress these entertwining chain reactions which are kept at equilibrium. So why do people go bonkers over scarce yet overly priced petrol. Availability of petrol to some but not others do not equate to some being smart than others, it’s just failure of the system to maintain equilibrium so that resources is not stressed and able to reach right down to the level of those unfortunate enough to not get in the queue in time because they do not want their asses to be subjected to prolonged torture in the queue, in short, couldn’t be arsed to queue.

So, with just above the reserve amount in the tank I ventured out to the biggest Tesco garage with the most number of pumps. At 22:00. Only because it dawned on me I still have to go to work. It’ll have to be something like aliens resurrecting from the epicentre of the earth by lightning before they close hospitals because of petrol strike.

Dr Bowels went with me because according to her, I have been a bit grumpy and under the weather these days it might cloud my judgement. I don’t know exactly what she meant, I was only kidding when I said if they don’t have petrol I am going to fill it up with water.

So we went and NO FUEL!!! Panicked, I bought tiramisu and strawberry cheesecake, trying to buy time before I have to start thinking how to make what I have to last enough so I can get more. Am referring to fuel, not illicit substance.

Next, I went to the one by the sea. It’s risky, it’s dangerous, it’s something unthinkable to do, oh no, it would be a waste of petrol if they too ran out, but somehow my compassion and love for something I have dedicated my life to, my work, oh yes, pushed me over my limit, make me do that extra bit more, unselfishly, just so I can get to work. And true they’ve too run out. Bollocks.

Wasn’t funny at all standing there wishing the guy rewound himself and say something like ‘Of course my lady, we are here exclusively for people like you who leave things to the last minute and we always make sure that all our customers are happy with our service.’

But he did say that a big truck MIGHT arrive in one hour’s time and that they are open 24 hr. Which made my head spin for a bit. Now if I went home, I might risk stalling my car coming back on the next trip. But if I waited I’d be sitting there like a melon, waiting for a big truck which might not even come after all and I was hungry and the Tiramisu was seducing the spare tyre in the boot and not forgetting it was getting pretty late.

So we went home. Dr. Vagina came over to help us finished the Tiramisu. He said to me, why the worry, I know a big garage which DEFINITEly has petrol. My head spinning a bit again then.

To cut the story short, we went, him in his car just in case.

My head felt glued to the steering and my hair pulled from all directions. Nobody would miss that painful sign. NO FUEL- exit this way. DEFINITEly?

I thought about the only other option. That one with the promised truck. In my mind my fear inflating, I was imagining my car stalled maybe 100 metres from the garage. Possible options then:

1) get a 100 metre siphon for the petrol to travel from the pump to my tank
2) fill up his car and siphon it out into my car, that way we don’t need that long a siphon
3) buy the petrol truck
4) leave the car and borrow his car to work
5) push the car to the garage
6) call AA and make them push the car, I don’t pay flippin 80 pounds for nothing
7) drug the truck driver and drive the truck off, black market petrol for 10 p less.
8) quit job at Scunnie Hospital

But like any adventure movie it was a happy ending. Megane didn’t stall half way, the truck was there, the pumps were full of fuel, he’s happy I didn’t strangle him, she’s happy she didn’t have to help me push the car, I was happy because I could not be unhappy . So we went to Walkabout, because it was a happy ending.

Was it just me who had this near car death experience?

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