I mean as in gasoline. Or petrol, as some like to call it.
Although he has plenty of that other gas to spread around too...
For any or all of you who are not within the immediate vicinity of the state of Oregon, you may or may not know that within that state you will find no self-service gas stations. It is, in fact, illegal to pump your own gas, even into a gas can or other container (with the exception of motorcyclists... go figure?). Oregon and New Jersey are the only two states to ban self-serve stations.
So growing up and becoming a driver, I had the pleasure of full-service fill-ups; never had to pump my own gas and rarely even had to get out of the car.
Now being as close to the Washington border as we were, and the many road trips my friends and I took up to Seattle, Canada, down to California, and even venturing eastward once in awhile with the family for a much longer car trip, most everybody has at one time or another had the *priveledge* to self-serve. Most everyone except moi. For some reason, I just never have. Not that I couldn't or wouldn't, I just never did. I always had a parent or a friend or a boyfriend or a husband who did it instead.
And I never really thought about it. Until my husband noticed this, and started kind of making fun of me... that I had never had to and probably never would, and maybe he'd have to "teach" me how (like I'm an idiot), just in case I got stranded across the border. Of our state.
So then it kind of became a running joke. We'd drive up to Seattle and Ryan would ask me if I would stop and get gas and then answer for me that nevermind- he wouldn't want to ruin my streak.
And then we MOVED OUT OF OREGON.
Whatever are you going to do? is what Ryan wanted to know... 30 years of never touching a gas nozzle down the drain.
He was quite worried about it. So on our final plane trip out here it was decided. I was going to live in the state of Michigan and see how long I could go without pumping my own gas.
So far I have made it 8 months and 26 days.
And it has not been easy, let me tell you. (Well, I guess it has been easy for me... since I don't ever have to get out and do it.)
Not too long after we first moved here, I took the Jetta to make a quick run to the grocery store late one night. Noticing the gas light had come on, I thought I would be nice and put gas in the car while I was out so that Ryan didn't have to worry about it early the next morning on his way to work. I actually pulled into the gas station, up to the pump, and turned off the car before I realized, what am I doing-- this would break my streak! So I left without getting gas. And went home and told Ryan how funny that was. Only he didn't think it was so funny.
Sometimes though, I think Ryan is more into this game, or goal, or streak, or roll, or whatever you want to call it, than I am. It's like if I fail, it means he failed. HAHA! He fills our car up whenever it's anywhere near being low. He will sometimes go out just to put gas in the 4runner at night if he knows I don't have enough to get SJ to school and back the next day.
Oh, and don't think that I haven't dragged other people into this pointless game as well. Sure, Nic and I drove my car for our Chicago trip last fall, but who do you think actually got out and filled the gas tank? And when I took my parents to the airport at the end of their last visit, and had to stop for gas on the way out of town, if you had to choose between myself in the driver's seat and my dad in the passenger seat, which one of us do you think payed and which one pumped?
Speaking of airports, this is the one that trumps them all.
I took Ryan to the airport for his trip today. (sidenote: I always take him myself, whenever I can. Unless it is pretty much impossible, no matter if it's a 20 min drive or over an hour, I have to take him myself. There's just something about taking him there and saying goodbye that I have to do. It's like some farewell obsession I have or something. I don't know, it's like if anything ever happened, and I hadn't been there to say good bye at the last possible moment, I would always regret it. I know, it's weird.)
Anyway, the airport is sixty-some miles away, so it's quite difficult for me to take Ryan to the airport, go home, do any driving I have to do in town while he's away, and then go back to Detroit to get him however many days later, on just one tank of gas. (It's been close before!)
Well, this fact didn't even cross my mind this afternoon on the way out there. We were running a little bit late and still, just before we got to the airport exit, he pulls off the highway and into a gas station. Where he proceeds to fill up my gas tank at that very last chance, so that I don't have to pump my own gas while he's gone. (hopefully). Keeping my streak alive!
Awwww... isn't that sweet?
So there you have my story for the day on why I have the best husband in the world, and why I appreciate him so.
He gives me gas.