Out of Gas

I've been a little off my game recently. It's been one deadline on top of another, and I still haven't brought all the trashcans and frying pans back in from the garage (where they were stored for our "no one lives here, wouldn't you like to buy the place?" period.)

So when I noticed I was running a couple of minutes late for a meeting I made the conscious choice not to turn off into the gas station. "This is the kind of choice I make lately- I do a million errands and chores when I should be focused on being on time." It was only a mile or 2 later that my car stopped responding when I pressed down on the gas pedal. The car is going slower and slower, and I'm on 101, one of the biggest busiest highways in this part of the country. I'm trying to figure out whether I'd like to be stuck on an exit-ramp overpass, or on the shoulder of the highway. I've got my hazards on, but still folks are honking as they whiz by. I find a good sized shoulder and pull over.

A policeman stooped by almost immediately. I had been trying to dial the campus group I was going to visit, but when he walked up to the car the phone shot out of my hand into the darkness. I explained my predicament, he offered to call AAA and even loaned me his flashlight to find my phone. Before he left he reminded me to keep my seat belt fastened until AAA arrived. It makes sense, I thought. If I were hit from behind, it would be good to be buckled in. Not that I would be hit from behind, but it could happen, what with all those hundreds of cars coming up behind me at 80 mph in the dark. Now I am anxious. Moments are crawling by, and I'm flashing back on my childhood when my ride would be late to pick me up from play practice or school or whatever, and you prayed every set of headlights was for you, but it usually wasn't.

Finally in my anxiety (you know, theologian Paul Tillich's "fear of non-being") I call my husband's cell and get my son. He tells me a rambling story about vaguely complaining about the way I got his dinner ready before I left. Finally I tell him where I am, and try to make it entertaining. He listens patiently and then says "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Finally a set of headlights pulls up behind me and stops. As the man approaches the car I say "You must be either AAA or a serial killer" he replies "Yes one of those." I'm soon on my way to my meeting, and only 45 minutes late. I call my contact who kindly offers to meet me at the visitor parking lot so that wandering lost around campus doesn't add additional delay. They were all very sweet and kind, and it was great to be with them. Embarrassing and disconcerting, but ultimately everything turned out okay.

A few days later I was low on gas and cutting it close on a meeting. I figured I'd better stop for gas.