Updated: May 26
Gassing up one’s whip shouldn’t feel like a Mission: Impossible assignment, but that’s precisely what it turned into recently when your humble servant deigned to gas up.
First, let’s acknowledge that what we’re calling a shortage of gas is actually a shortage of common sense. A gas shortage didn’t create the panic gripping our nation: the panic caused the gas shortage.
If I were King of the Forest, I’d dictate that anyone filling up an automobile’s gas tank that was already more than half full would suffer dire consequences – like being forced to stay home and binge-watch every movie Jim Belushi and Whoopi Goldberg ever made.
Trouble was obviously afoot for “we the people” when, on my bi-weekly run to Costco to get ingredients for my award-winning armadillo casserole, it took 20 minutes just to get into the parking lot. Cars making the panicked petrol pump pilgrimage were jammed bumper to bumper, evoking a desperation reminiscent of people trying to catch the last flight out of Saigon or, more recently, trying to purchase the last 50-roll package of toilet paper.