The Pains of Dolores

Predictions:

Church in the heart of Melbourne: Better than Nicki Minaj.

The Puffing Billy Train Ride: Better than Nicki Minaj.

The Melbourne Zoo: Worse than Nicki Minaj.

William Rickets Sanctuary: Better than Nicki Minaj.

Are you among the people in the world who have run out of gas while driving?  Me too.  Are you among the people in the world who have run out of gas while driving in a foreign country?  Neither am I.

While driving to work the other day, I noticed the gas tank was dangerously close to that big scary "E."  While rounding a corner the gauge would flex bringing that warm honey colored light on, accompanied by the harmless sounding "ping" that warns you, "Hey, your car is about to turn into a 2000 pound block of immovable plastic and steel."

That honey colored light, akin to slipping down a large flight of stairs or staring down a rather vicious looking dog in the middle of the woods, caused my life to flash before my eyes.  It was only a small piece that flashed.  It was more of a feeling than an actual memory, and with the feeling cam images.  It was dozens upon dozens of little blips of a gas gauge flexing towards that big scary "E" accompanied by a polite "ping" and the kind of sweaty stress from knowing you're going to be late.

Opposite side of the world and I have an epiphany including gas tanks.  I remembered the stress of being late.  I don't know what I thought I was missing, or what unbearable consequences I was worried about facing.  Add to these fears of missing out on the beginning of something the potential for missing out on all of that something when the gas tank turns up bone dry halfway up a hill and I recall being quite the bundle of nerves. 

It was an odd moment, where two version of me collided.  Granted, I often imagine what would happen if two versions of myself met.  Often though I imagine the two of us racing, wrestling or critiquing the other's lack of intelligence.   Often these day dreams end up looking something like that Jackie Chan movie where Jackie is told he is "The One" and he must travel to alternate universes to destroy robotic versions of himself so that his child can grow up to lead a resistance against the impending automaton apocalypse. 

The car I currently drive, Dolores, has a funny gas gauge.  It's about 1/8 of a tank off.  So when it looks like you have 1/8 of a tank left, you actually only have none.  None gas left.  And driving down the highway with none gas is Worse than Nicki Minaj.  That means that I would rather be driving and listening to Nicki Minaj if the alternative is sitting on the side of the highway, gasless, with zero Nicki Minaj.  A scary thought. 

When Dolores fooled me the first time with her gas gauge, I was given a lecture by a close friend's father.  The phrase I will always remember, "It's easier to reach into your wallet to fill up from a half tank down than it is to fill up a full tank." 

I find that it is difficult to fill up a gas tank whether it is half full or empty, so I'll just drive my car to bone dry every time.  Less fill-ups means less pain.  I can say though that I don't think I'll ever really be stressed by that honey colored-light or the "ping" again. 

Cheers,
Melmoth

P.S.  On the topic of pain, I heard a very painful phrase while conversing the other day.  The phrase was, "Well, I want to have a flexible job because my other half moves around a lot..."

I'll let you figure out who said it.