On the way to work this morning. Thought I could make it. I've been cocky about that. But this time I was driving the wife's car and I guess I just don't have as good a sense of where the "E" really starts in hers. See, in my Saturn, you can let that little dial go down below the line and you still have room to spare. I can't tell you how many times I've been stuck in traffic in the middle of the Big Dig just wiiilling that little baby along. When that dial starts to creep down, and you're looking for space between it and the final line, and there's no break-down lane, and traffic isn't moving, there's nothing between even an atheist and the Ahura Mazda Saturnus - God of "Holy Shit I'm Gonna Run Out of Gas Out Here and Even AAA Will Never Be Able to Get To Me!"

But it's never happened to me. Never. AMS has pulled me through every single time. Until this morning. The car punked out before I could make it to the gas station. Seems the Volkswagen actually means what it says. E means E and that's that.

Piece a crap!

So I got a ride back to the house from a friendly local police officer, faced the wife (oh, that was a joy - I'll skip the description..."I'm always telling you...blah blah blah - She's the kind that calls me at work to ask if there's enough gas to get to the store and back (the store is at the end of the street) "Because it's on 1/4! Is that enough? Are you sure? Are you really sure?!") - grabbed the gas can from the shed, took the other car, gassed up the gas can, went back home, by which time the wife was almost ready and off we all went back to where the old POS...I mean, the Volkswagen...had given up on me (On ME! The betrayal! Personally, I suspect dual-loyalties. Never expect more than the bare minimum from someone else's car.) and off I went.

So that was how my day started. Thanks for being there.