The best reason to get married

So here is a word to wise for those of you interested in Alternative! Fuel! Vehicles! After you have filled up your car with B99 biodiesel at the little shed over there in Ballard, you will need to put down a beach towel over your nice new bucket seat, hurry yourself home and throw all of your clothes in the wash. Although before you do that you might want to take Spray 'n Wash to every inch of said clothes because the biodiesel will be EVERYWHERE. I'm not exactly sure how this happens. It's not like the gas is spilling out of the car or anything. And after the first time it dripped everywhere, I remembered to let it drip a bit in the nozzle before taking it out the second time. But still! GREASE EVERYWHERE. It must be coated on the nozzle handle. The station even has these weird rag things that look more like the foam pads on the sides of the space shuttle to mop up any extra fuel that dribbles down the side of your car, but I don't think they help either. Maybe next time I should hold the nozzle using one of those rag things. And remember not to wipe my hands on my jeans.

I have yet to smell french fries when I drive. I'm a little disappointed, but on the plus side, you don't reek of McDonalds when you get biodiesel all over yourself while filling up.

We had a Big Day on Saturday so it made the most sense for me to fill up after work on Friday. Not that I didn't try to figure out how I could put it off till Saturday. We could just jaunt over to Ballard and then, you know, take 99 down to Phillip's mom's house! THAT'S not inconvenient at ALL! I also rationalized that we didn't really NEED to fill up as we have a terribly fuel efficient car whose gas needle does not visibly move after every mile like my old car. Basically I entertained every possible scenario in which I, myself, would not have to fill up my own car. Because, Internet, I don't know about you, but filling up the car is one of the most vile things in the world.

It's just dirty! It smells! Getting gas is a BOY job! Why do I, a helpless girl, have to get OUT of the car and work the little machine and hold the nozzle and risk dripping gasoline on my shoes? I pretty much only filled up my Explorer if I were in danger of stalling in the middle of the road on my next trip to the grocery store AND if Phillip was on a business trip in Timbuktu. If there was any possible way of getting my husband to put gas in the car FOR me, I would drive past 10 straight gas stations on my way home without a second thought.

Unfortunately! Of the two places to get biodiesel in town (that we know of, and not counting crazy hippies with homebrews), one is really super duper inconvenient and the other is right on my way to and from work. On the surface I am all, "Excellent! It will be so easy for us to rely on alternative fuel!" but underneath I am all, "SUCKS TO BE ME."

I hate getting gas and yet, Friday afternoon as I crossed the bridge and gazed sullenly at Dr. Dan's general direction, I made myself pull off the main drag and zig zag through the neighborhood to, SIGH, fill up. Like a grown up. And then? I put gas in the car ALL BY MYSELF. I made all the right notations on the logs, I didn't forget my key, I didn't hit anything when I backed up to the pump and I smiled sweetly at the crazy lady with the Passat who wouldn't get out of my way, because we're all in this alternative fuel thing together, right? I did get grease all over my pants and the steering wheel and one of Dr. Dan's subordinates called me later to say that I left my log on top of the pump and I might want to come back and get it, but I was exceptionally pleased with myself.

Not to say that I want to do it again. I'd rather not make this a habit.

Next weekend we are going on a road trip (road trip!) to visit Blondie. Okay, so we'll be driving as far as Portland, but still! Gas will probably be required. I may suggest we stop at the pump on our way home to get ready for the next week. You know. It won't really be on the way, but one must make sacrifices for alternative fuel, don't you think?

Comments

[lee]

maybe you should find an alternative fuel station in portland? they won't let you pump your own gas there.

[Angela]

God, you make living the greener life sound ever so glamourous! Although it is rather good to hear that you don't smell like a vat of french fries after fueling up. I fear that would be exceptionally bad for my diet.

[Vanessa]

That's exactly why I got married! Pumping gas, taking out the garbage, killing bugs - all boy jobs. There should be a list of things to ask your future hubby to do before agreeing to the union. It's only fair!