Better late... or never?

So this is how it goes down. Super heavy storms wake you during the night. The wee girl wakes you up early in the morning. You plan a trip to Dublin with the wee girl. You pay careful attention to timings. A marketing call by Dublin Electricity causes an unexpected delay. The wee girl's a bit grumpy. You are a bit grumpy. Better late than never. You get the both of you ready and you go. You spot an empty petrol can at door. A reminder. Long grass on the lawn a symptom of a dry petrol mower. You decide to deal with that another time when you have more time. It's wet. You put on raincoat. It's warm. You put on the wee girl's raincoat. You perspire. You get both of you into the car and you’re on the road. The petrol light is blinking low. You calculate that you don’t have enough fuel for the journey. You’re stopping anyway so you may as well fill the empty petrol can. You reverse back, collect can, set off in car, check the time. Better late than never.

You take a detour on the off chance that petrol will be cheaper off the beaten track. You note the petrol price at the usual station. You make the detour and check the petrol price at the alternative station. The prices are the same. You stop anyway as you are here now. It passes through your head that filling petrol cans at a station may be unusual enough to rouse some suspicions. The image of burning churches flashes through your head. A Northern Irish scene. Everything is damp. You tiptoe a zigzag over puddles to access the petrol pump. You remove the nozzel. You discover that the petrol line has to be hooshed down to be pulled out. You hoosh down and pull out the line. You become aware that the petrol cap is on the other side of the car from the pump. You hoosh a couple more times to get enough line to reach the petrol cap. The wee girl is thrashing her legs inside the car causing it to wobble like one of those dinosaur containment crates in the Jurassic Park film. The line reaches the far side of the car but the little petrol cap door is shut. You rest the nossel down. You tiptoe a zigzag back to the driver's seat and tug the petrol lever a couple of times. You pick up the nossel. You return to the petrol cap. The little door is still shut. You rest the nossel down. The little door can be released from inside the trunk. So the theory goes. You open the trunk and reach in to release the little door. No joy. You check the car manual for a workaround. No joy. You decide to park this. You’ll check on the Internet at a later time. At the same time you decide to abandon the trip into Dublin. This will give you a relaxing remainder of the morning with the wee girl. You check the wee girl. She smiles at you. You decide to fill the petrol can as you are here now. You point the nozzle into the can. Will there be spillage? No. Will there be any petrol coming out? No. Will you continue to try? The image of a petrol attendant watching CCTV footage of a fraught Northern Irish man making desperate attempts to fill a can with petrol flashes through your head. You decide to fill the can some other time. You are heading home now. The wee girl is bouncing to the music on the stereo. The rain is dissipating. The route home passes the original petrol station. As you approach this petrol stop, you decide to pull in and give it another try with filling up the can. Don't ask me - it's your thought process we're dealing with here. This time, you pull up where the pump is to the right side of the car. But you are interested in whether the pumps here will work to fill the can. Nozzle in. Squeeze. Nothing. Another try. Nope. You're hanging up the nozzle for a bad job when you see the numbers on the pump flash and reset. One more squeeze. Success! Yeah, but the can almost squirts out of your hand with the force and surprise of the fuel shot. Easy does it. That's the can filled. You pay. Take a chance on trying the car again? Worth a try. You give a good wiggle of the petrol door release lever. No joy. Last try? A clunk. Hope. You spin out of the driver's seat and... sure enough, the little door stands ajar. So you fill the car, greet the cashier again, and there's no longer anything stopping you getting back to keeping on rockin' in the free world. Gasoline gives that sort of hit, doesn't it? Suddenly you’re considering making the trip to Dublin after all. You check the time. You look at the wee girl…

Simon Maxwell is thinking about making an outing to Dublin

Comments

[Nicole]

In the valley of indecision . . . sometimes you wonder if you'll ever get the hint, get it right, fight for it, leave it. ??? Great post.