I read two articles in a row with the eternal wailing of “Why, oh why are we friends with the nasty Saudis?” and then went and filled up the tank for half of what I used to pay back in the Fall. Strangely, there are no bloggers bemoaning the cheapness of gas. But what’s even more bizarre than the idiocy of these moaners is that I’d be in a position to notice the price of gas.
Still, let’s not exaggerate the extent of my sophistication. Gas stations still cause me a lot if confusion. First, the pump I chose ran out of gas. At 11 am. Has anybody heard anything like that? I never considered this possibility, so I kept trying to milk the poor empty pump with relentless dedication until the attendant interfered and wrestled the hose out of my hands.
In the end, I got out of there reeking of gas even though I have finally learned to treat the pump with the care of a person diffusing a bomb.
Isn’t it curious that people who find it easy to see the connection between the Saudis and the price of gas, as well as among a million other things, are usually the ones who see a mundane task like filling up the tank as a serious challenge.

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