I had an appointment this morning at a local coffeehouse with a potential client ( I know, coffeehouse…ironic). I got in my car to head over and as soon as I turned the key, an alarm sounded. Then an exclamation point came on my dash and the vehicle calmly said, “Please refuel now.” Well, according to my “command center,” I have 40 miles to empty. What’s the rush? I mean, 40 miles, that’s a long way; I’m only going about 6 or 7. I should be good for the trip there and back and then some. So, I’m planning on ignoring the request. However, even though I was alone, I could envision my wife giving me the death stare and telling me I better get gas, so I gave in to her subliminal intrusion and headed to the nearest station.
My wife and kids always freak out about the gas gauge. I always run “light to light.” I mean, why take the time to fill up until you absolutely have to, right? I suppose this habit is a result of my many years of riding a motorcycle that does not have a fuel gauge. I use the “low fuel” light to let me know its time to think about making a stop. Since most motorcycles don’t have large tanks and I don’t like to stop much, I always go as far as I think I can get away with before I refuel. It hasn’t bit me yet. I know, I know. All of you that believe in that bad juju or whatever, now assume I am cursed to run out of gas because I said it hasn’t happened yet.
As far as I am concerned, the fuel light only serves one purpose…to remind me that its time to stop and grab a cup of coffee and a donut.