On April 20th I wrote post in which I informed my readers that I had only used half a tank of gas since Josh left, and that I was hoping that the second half would last me until Josh got home….because I don’t know how to pump gas. It’s illegal to pump your own gas in Oregon (we have gas attendants there), and while I have lived in other states, I’ve never had a car in a state other than Oregon.
First let me tell you, I am IMPRESSED with my 2001 Honda Accord, Azul. On one tank of gas, she got over 315 miles of town driving, which lasted me over 40 days. I couldn’t believe it. For the length of LENT (if you don’t count Sundays), I didn’t have to buy gas. That’s just crazy.
But today…I was just about to hit that thick, white line at the bottom of my fuel gauge. The gas light still had not turned on, but I didn’t want to push my luck (Ashlie + car problems = completely useless and 100% over-dramatic) since my husband is out of town, and I live in North Dakota by myself.
So I went to get gas. Mind you, before I left our apartment I looked up online step-by-step instructions on how to pump gas.
1. I know which side of the car the gas tank is on. Check
2. I pull up to the pump, put the car in park, turn off the engine, and pop the little gas tank door. Check.
3. I get out of the car, I take the cap off the tank. Check
4. Select the proper type of fuel for my car. Check.
5.. And then I got completely flustered and forgot everything I read on Wiki-how.
So I took the gas-gun-pump-handle thing and I put it in the gas tank and I clicked the handle and nothing. At this point I’m convinced that everyone in North Dakota is watching me (because I mean come on, what else is there to do in North Dakota?) even though I am the ONLY person at the station. I click the handle again, a little harder this time. Nothing. Taking the gas-gun-pump-handle thing, I set it back in its holster and I start looking at the place where I’m supposed to swipe my credit card. None of the buttons are labeled, so I’m just pushing all of them…and then it tells me it doesn’t take a debit card…so do they take a credit card? I just don’t know. It’s a mystery. After what feels like forever, but probably only 10 minutes, the guy from inside the convenience store comes out and I get all insecure and I start rambling, “HiImfromOregon…Ineverreallyhavetodothisandcanyouhelpme?IjustdontknowwhatImdoing. ImgonnamakechickenfordinnergottagotothestoreandIneedgasttotgetthereprobablysoooooooooooooooo”
*weird look* “Yeah, I can help you.”
After asking some questions about how people get gasoline in Oregon, he went inside. And I finished filling up the car and put the thing back in its holster, and then I got in my car and drove away.
And then the guy came running out of the store because I forgot to pay.
So basically, I’m just hoping that this tank of gas will last until Josh gets home and can re-teach me how to pump gas. Which is actually pretty likely, because I’m going to be in Oregon for the next two weeks, and then Georgia for three days… and then it will only be a month until Josh is home sweet home.
Azul, show me what you got.
a dillightful adventure 
Hahaha LOVE THIS! I was terrified the first time I had to pump gas by myself… it still makes me uneasy. I went on a road trip to Washington with some Oregon friends a while back and we had to stop for gas – literally sat in the car for a good 10 minutes thinking we were just receiving terrible service and not realizing that we had to pump our own gas. Oh how spoiled we are in our great state!
That is great! We don’t pump our own gas in Jersey!! Luckily I dont have to worry about this issue in Malawi, but I have had to figure out how to repair a bike
while on the move.
I know this is an old post, but I just read it and found it hysterical! Even though we’re in CA, my siblings and I didn’t learn to pump gas because I rarely drove before marrying, and my dad would fill up my siblings’ car. Floyd taught me how to pump after we married. I had to teach my younger brother how to and my older sister learned on her own by watching a stranger. It’s always quite an experience, that first time, hahaha.
Hahahahahahahaha. I love you more every day.
AndIhopeyourchickenfordinnerwasgoodlalalala ❤
story of my life for the first years in seattle.