Never drive on an empty tank

As Paul got in his car to head home, his legs hit the seat that had been heating in the late afternoon sun and more than the back of his legs had hit the seat than he ever expected. Turning on his car, he was reminded how far he was once again pushing his fuel; ‘10 miles remaining’ is really even further than he was usually comfortable with.

Pulling into the gas station around the corner, he got out to quickly pay at the pump before jumping back in the car while it pumped. However, the screen promptly told him the card reader was malfunctioning, so he would have to go inside. Not real thrilled with the idea of going in with his current shorts, he realized he had little choice, and it was just workout clothes.

Without really anyway to carry a wallet, he just when in with his card in hand to wait in line. He was pretty sure a few of the guys buying beer were making comments about him, but when he got to the register, the attendant was much nicer than she’d ever been to him before, “hey, babe,” she smiled, “you’re lookin fit. All clean cut and what not.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, Alice,” name tags really helped when you didn’t bother to remember workers’ names. “Just need $50 on 10.”

“Righty-o, babe!”

Returning back to pump the car, he finds the automatic pump lock is busted so now he has to stand there and pump. Feeling the exhaustion of the day, he leaned on the car while he pumped.

From a distant pump 4, a drunk lake goer whistled out from her truck window and yelled, “sexy whale tail you got there, sweety!!!”

Looking over his shoulder, Paul realized they must have been talking about his shorts or something. Waving and standing up straight he willed the pump to go faster.

“Maybe I can pump you up, sweety,” she continued to get a rise out of him.

Just then the pump clicked to $50, screwed on the cap, and then dashed in his car to get out of there.