You know what's great? Oregon. Oregon is great.

I've been driving around on fumes for a few days now and figured it was time to finally fill up the tank before then needle dove straight through the 'E' and swung back up to the 'F' and I forgot that I needed gas.  So I dropped the kids at school and headed off to the gym.  The first gas station is about 3 blocks from the school but I drove straight past that one because it's a pain to get in and out of.  It sits on a corner and both of the roads that border it are divided with meridians so you have to turn right when leaving the lot and it turns out that I never need to turn right at that corner. Sure, I could just turn right then drive a bit until I can make a u-turn but that's a pain in the ass. The next gas station is maybe 1/2 mile farther and is still on the way to the gym so I stopped there.

I pulled into the lot and there were 16 beautiful pumps just waiting for me.  I pulled up to the first and there was a little white note taped to the screen that read 'Cash Only'. Huh? Well, that's not going to work so I pulled to the next one. Same little sign, "Cash Only'. Okay, I'll try the other side. More and more little white notes.  16 little white notes requesting cash. Is this a joke? We made it through Y2K and now nothing works?  Really?  You may as well tell me that I have to barter with livestock. 'So, how many gallons for a chicken? And, yes, sir, she's a mighty fine layer!' Jesus christ, cash.
So I drove to the gym on the very last of my fumes, the whole time thinking, "cash? It's the end of civilization, that's what this is..." fucking cash.

I don't even like pumping gas and now they're making it harder for me. Really? This is part of the reason that I want an electric car. No more pumping gas.  It's also why I started teaching the boys how to pump gas. I've been pumping gas for 36 years. I'm over it. I have gotten all I can out of this experience and there's nothing left to the relationship. I'm sorry, pump, but it's time we moved on. I lived in Oregon for a year and there you weren't allowed to pump your own gas. Now, I know what you're thinking because I thought the same thing. For about two weeks. Then I realized how perfectly amazing it was to have someone else pump your gas.  That's right, two short weeks and I stopped caring that the gas cost a little more. How cares? I can sit here in my nice warm/cool/dry car and let someone else deal with it. AND, they clean the windshield! Sure, I can pump gas. I can also check the oil, change a flat and jump the battery.  But i don't want to. I'm a strong independent woman perfectly capable of handling minor car maintenance but would rather pay someone else to do it. Isn't that the American way? And in Oregon they can't even accuse you of being lazy. 'Oh, sure I'd pump my own gas, but they won't let me.'

 Gee, Mr. Drumpf*, if you really want to make America great again, you know what you can do? Eliminate self-service.  I bet he doesn't even realize that people have to pump their own gas.  Someone should tell him. Just think of how many jobs that would create. Millions. Put all the pump jockeys in roller skates and I'd consider tipping them.  Let's get the economy rolling! Keep America Lazy! The bumper sticker possibilities are endless. Now I realize none of that helps me with my lack of cash but it's the story I'm going to tell John when I run out of gas and have to call him to come get me. I'll leave out the part where I've had an orange gas pump glowing on the dash for four days.  Yup, that's my plan.

*And, yes, that is his real family name