Close to Nowhere

Whew!

I made it one more time, but it was really close.

Any time I need gas, I always – always – think I can wait until the next time I get out.

Tuesday of last week I drove to Coldwater to babysit my 18-month-old great-granddaughter. I didn’t stop on the way home, because I knew I had to go to Oxford Thurs day.

On the way home from Oxford I told my son Kris that I’d just go to the gas station “tomorrow.” I was tired and did not want to stop. And my car said I had 21 miles to go, so I just cruised right past the gas station in Abbeville.

It turned out that I really didn’t want to go anywhere Friday, so Saturday, when I had to drive to the post office in Abbeville (the Waterford P.O. is closed on Saturday), I jumped in the car, cranked it up and oh boy! My car said I had …. instead of a number of miles to go. I’ve had this car nearly three years now and even though I skate past the gas station regularly, I’d never seen … before.

My original plan had been to go to gas station in Abbeville, then run to the post office. It’s eight miles to Abbeville from my house. I was terrified. Instead, I drove to Marion’s store/gas station that is only five miles from my house, headed toward Holly Springs, instead of Oxford. I prayed the entire way.

I made it. And the entire time I pumped gas, I kept saying “Thank you, Lord!”

My trip to the post office was uneventful after that. I could even breathe.

I ran in Dollar General, which is the only store I’ve been in since the pandemic (well, OK, I did go to Walmart in Holly Springs twice – but I felt safe there, go figure).

I really got a boost at Dollar General. I’d gotten back in my thankfully gassed-up car and a black man in a mask tapped on my car window. Even over the mask, I could see his eyes smiling, as I rolled my window down. I’d apparently been so traumatized by nearly running out of gas that I’d completely forgotten to put the gas cap back on and shut the panel.

He laughed and said that in this day and time he didn’t want to mess with anyone’s car without their knowledge, so he’d waited until I came out of the store so he could come over and tell me about my gas cap and close it for me.

My faith in humanity has hope again.