I’ll admit it.
I’ve lived through several energy crisis’s in my life. Not to put too fine a point on it, I remember when a gallon of gas cost less than a dollar. WAY less.
Those were the days when driving a car was everything. You and your friends pooled your money and put that much gas in your car and drove around.
Compare that with pop star Lorde singing about she and her friends pooling their dollars on a train so they could party and you see how different things have become.
Well, I have a car now. I keep gas in it and as an adult I can get in it any time and drive as long as the money holds out.
The problem today is this:
My energy crisis is now internal, and to keep things exciting, I never know when I will run out of gas.
Last week, my worlds collided.
After an extremely frustrating meeting with my rheumatologist, I blew out of there furious.
I was driving my car to an highway on-ramp to take my prescriptions to my pharmacy when my car turned into a tank.
I’m not all that strong to begin with but suddenly it seemed I was driving my car through wet cement. I put it in park, got out and checked the tires. Fine. Got back in the car. Still driving like the street was steel and my tires were magnets. I spotted a parking lot, ran a red light on an empty street, got the car up the hill into the parking lot and with a Herculean effort, turned the wheels so I pulled into a parking space.
If we lived in a cartoon universe, at that point steam would have been shooting from my ears.
I called my insurance company’s road hazard service and they used GPS to find me and my car.
Did I mention there was another winter storm on its way into town? I had little hope of getting a tow truck anytime soon.
I called one brother and told him what my car did and he told me I’d probably snapped a belt. I called another brother (I have three) to come get me and wait for the tow.
Ninety minutes later I walked into my front door, walked directly to my bedroom, stripped to my underwear and went to bed.
I got up Tuesday, got a ride to the dealer, paid all the money I had and picked up my car with its new automatic steering belt.
I came home, went back to bed.
I didn’t get up until Wednesday.
I was Sandi Stalwart with my brother and the tow truck driver (who was impressed I could steer my car at all with a snapped steering belt).
The second I hit my house, it was like someone slit open my Achilles tendon, and like Achilles, all my life force was draining out.
The little recharge I got from my stint in bed Monday night was used up getting the car back on Tuesday.
It took the rest of the week to get back to appearing normal.
I hate that.