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Running on Empty (and my husband’s last nerve)

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One factual thing about me … I never look at the gas gauge. The only time I think of putting gas in my vehicle is when the gas light and alert goes off. That’s exactly what it’s there for … Just like the alarm clock or timer; a reminder that it’s time to do whatever it is that it needs to be done.  


When we go somewhere together, my husband is always asking if there’s gas in my car. (He should rightfully ask, knowing that there’s probably not). He’s warned me numerous times that one day it’s gonna happen; one day I’m gonna ride those fumes home and I’m not gonna have enough time to stop and get gas on the way to my next destination. One day. 


So there I was, on a Saturday afternoon, cruising along, singing at top of lungs, arm out the window, bobbing my head back and forth to some questionable 80s pop, completely oblivious to the fact that my car was running on fumes and good intentions. My destination? The nail parlor, about 12 miles away. 


Suddenly, I felt a sputter. I turned down the music, as if that had anything to do with it. I felt it again. Then I realized the gas light and alert had come on yesterday morning on my way to work so that means I had already driven approximately 25 miles already! Oops!


I dare not call my husband … I would never hear the end of it. He would never let me live this down. Although we would both laugh about it, I would certainly have it coming to me.


I gripped the steering wheel tighter, leaned forward in my seat and started talking to Jesus! In the back of my head, I knew he didn’t have anything to do with it either. It wasn’t Jesus’s fault that I didn’t have gas in my car. It was totally mine, but yet here I am begging him to get me to a gas station so I don’t have to call my husband!


I quickly changed my radio to worship and praise music and decided to make a couple of turns the opposite way I was headed so that I could “hopefully“ make it to a nearby gas station. I’m sure Jesus heard my pleas, but at the same time, he was probably rolling his eyes at me just like my husband would.


I began reciting, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can”, from The Little Engine that Could. I could literally see the gas station up ahead. I could feel my eyes brighten, and my smile grew big. Then the engine coughed. My face fell. The engine coughed and sputtered again as I pulled into the driveway of the gas station. “JESUS”, I screamed out loud. I’m sure everyone pumping their gas outside heard me scream. A few of them even turned around and looked at me.


I pulled exactly to the pump before the engine completely shut off. Thank you, Jesus!! I sat in silence for about 30 seconds thinking about that phone call I almost had to make to my husband. I could practically hear his exasperated sigh through the airwaves. He would’ve come to my rescue though, but I’m glad he didn’t have to.


I got out, filled my tank with that life fuel, got my nails done and went home. Later that evening we decided to go out to dinner. 

Guess what my husband asked me?

Delightfully, we took my vehicle. I just may have learned my lesson.

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