Stranded

I'm too old for this shit!

Here I am, stranded on a God-forsaken country road at 6 am on a Saturday, and it's not even my fault! Someone wanted to paahte so baaadly and didn't have gas in her car! Had to take mine, designated driver my ass!

You take my car, girl, you fill it up! Someone is going to get it from me when I get back home tonight! If I get back home, that is.

I'm waiving this one-gallon canister at passing cars and not a single one has stopped! Not like there's a lot of them at this time here anyway, but at least 12 must have just zapped through! I've lost count already. And I'm late for my work shift! My boss is going to be so mad!

Another ten minutes, and I see a small white Nissan coming from the other side of the road. I wave and jump, my knees hurt. I'm too old for this shit! It passed me by again, even though the woman there clearly saw me and gave me a questioning look. Why are people so indifferent?

Oh, wait, she's slowing down and backing up! I can see a kid in the back seat, she is talking to him. She stops, I jog to the car, more like wobble with my bad knee, and she rolls her window down.

"Do you need help, sir?"

"Yes! Thank God you stopped! I ran out of gas! I've been standing here for 4o minutes now! No one stops! So thank you!" Why am I out of breath?

She looks at me and says, "But I don't have a...." She is clearly searching for a word in her mind, looking back at her kid.

Afraid that she'd just drive off, I wave my toy canister at her and say, "There's a gas station about three miles up the road, your way, if you could give me a ride there..."

The kid, who is about seven or eight, says, "Mom, let's give him a ride!"

She starts saying something in a different language to him. I hear her slight accent but I can't place it. The kid says, "a hose?" and looks confused.

"Ok, I guess we'll give you a ride, sir," she says.

As I hop-wobble into the front passenger seat, she says, starting to drive, "I'm sorry I forgot my spare canister at home and don't have a hose?"

"A hose?" I repeat, confused.

"Yes, to suck the gas out of my tank."

I try not to laugh. Who does that anymore? I ask her where she is from.

"Russia," she says hesitantly, "but we live here now."

"Do people still suck the gas out of their tanks there?" I ask.

"Sometimes, if they are stranded on a road. The gas stations are much farther apart there."

"Thank God there's one nearby here. I just passed it," I say.

"So how come you got stranded then?" the kid asks.

"I honestly didn't notice my tank was empty until the car stopped. I was sure I had half a tank but then yesterday my daughter took my car for a party and must have driven it around more than I thought. Teenagers, right? Don't be like that when you grow up," I wink at the kid.

We talk about some other things and reach the gas station. As I get out, she asks, "Do you need a ride back?"

"No, I'll ask someone else at the gas station who goes that way."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yes! You've been too kind already and I don't want to delay you on your trip to Florida. Thank you again, you saved me!"

"My pleasure," she says and drives off.

I'm really too old for this shit. Need to get a bigger canister, too.

***

Author's note: This really happened with me and my son when we were driving from Georgia to Florida in the summer of 2010. I just wrote it up from the man's perspective for L.C. Schäfer's September Dollar Challenge.