I loved the smell of gasoline when I was a kid. I would hover around my Dad every time he filled up the lawn mower.
Dad – “Don’t stand so close, gas kills brain cells.”
He’d say this as he splashed gas everywhere, getting very little of it in the tank. I didn’t take him too literally. According to him, everything kills brain cells.
I have finally grown out of my gasoline craze since my car started leaking it for about a year now.
I went to go fill up yesterday, put the nozzle in the tank and let the gas flow while I went into the store for cig’s and a cup of their finest coffee. When I made it back outside, there was a large anticipated pool of gas puddling up under my car. Some guy was looking at it.
Guy – “Is this your car?”
Me – “Yeah, it has a little leak.” I say this nonchalantly as I take the nozzle out and screw on the gas cap. The trick is to act like it’s no big deal, just an everyday occurence, because some people have the delicate disposition of blowing the smallest things out of proportion.
He laughed at my comment of it being a “little leak.” It was not a slight drip.
Me – “It’ll stop, it stops after a while.” I say whimsically.
Him – “You know, it’s dangerous to drive a car with a leak like that.”
Ugh, just what I was avoiding to hear. That’s like telling a complete stranger that it’s bad to smoke. Thanks Mister for your much needed wise councel.
Me – “I know, tell me about it. I’m getting it fixed real soon.” I say as I open up a pack of smokes.
I am getting it fixed soon. I stepped in the puddle of gas before hopping in my car and it got on my pants and shoes. I stunk up my massage room – and the whole clinic actually. Not very smart Melanie. I blame all the gas I inhaled throughout my life.
I have to get back to work.