Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Running On Empty
Coming back from that wedding a while ago on the straight, flat, through-little-villages A38 North East of Bristol in the wake of the Great British Fuel Blockade, my fuel gauge pinged to tell me I was running low on petrol, and dammit but every garage I passed for the next ten miles or so was closed.
After twenty, the gauge hit zero - "DH there is no petrol left, stop now" - and I was nowhere in site of a town or a filling station or a layby or a duck and, no choice, no option, I just kept on driving, convinced any moment it'd just run dry, judder to a halt, stop Unsafely, strand me here in Chipping Cum Bloody Bog Nowhere Gloucestershire, 3 hours from Home and Bed and Loved Ones and Everything and DAMN, DAMN!! BLOODY DAMN!!! but, no choice, no option, TWENTY FIVE I just kept on driving, kept on driving and........that's what this past fortnight's been like.
No liquid left. I've been running on the vapours in the tank. I've been hearing my own voice talking and I'm listening to it from two metres away across the room and it sounds like someone else's voice (have you ever had that?) and it's been, you know, hard work.
Breathing in those vapours...
But, hallelujah, now I've STOPPED.
Not in a grass ditch or on a dangerous corner, as far as I can tell, but at a point at last (and that is what happened against all odds in Chafing Slightly, Gloucs) where I may perchance Refuel, at a price. And that is good. And now I really need to swap this View for Another, for a week at least, and on a budget, and all things shall be fine. Most likely.
But where on earth shall I go? Eh?
Not camping, noooooohhhhhh!!!!
Trembling Blue Stars - 'Outside Looking Elsewhere' (2007)
Alright Colin ?
Actual fuel gauge not pictured. Mine's a nice digital one. Counts down mile by mile. Stressing you up nicely.