Any die-hard Seinfeld fans out there?
Remember the Dealership episode? Where Kramer takes a car for a test drive and keeps driving, till the gas tank’s empty and dry? The one where Puddy’s hi-five is irritating as hell and so on? The twix candy bar episode where George actually lodges a complaint?
Alright, let’s refresh memories and laugh a bit?
See how Rick goes from confused to anxious to worried to liberating and then goes completely cuckoo. Pay particular attention from 1:14 on.
Crazy characters aren’t they? You’d wonder how Steve Koren ever came up with this line. To actually think of creating a duo such as Kramer and Rick to be so completely quixotic to dream up of such a thing as challenging the gas tank. Creative and out of the world. Yeah?
Here, let me tell you a secret.
There are a few random people out there who do such things. Just for kicks. Like for example, I don’t know, there’s this lady who lives in the suburbs, who drives a large SUV and schleps herself and her three kids to numerous activities and drives a minimum of 50 miles a day. The one who prattles non-stop on her blog and pretends to be a knowitall?
Yeah. that’s me yours truly. I pulled a Kramer.
Well, let’s rephrase that. I have ALWAYS pulled a Kramer. Am my husband’s nightmare, my son’s source of worry and daughter’s annoyance. Munchkin, she still thinks am cool of course.
By stroke of good fortune, the husband dutifully does surprise checks on the gas tank aided by his two trusty spies at home, and does his spousely “looking after” duties as necessary. Along with the oil changes, the car tax, and numerous whatever tendings the car needs, he also fills the gas tank at regular intervals. I just drive the darn thing back and forth.
As I drive around, am totally oblivious to that little tiny yellow dot that appears on the dashboard. It’s an indicator. It indicates something when it comes up. I am well aware of that, just that I believe there is a lag between the indicator on the dashboard and the indicator that should go up in my brain. The kind that would send signals translating to regular human language such as English would be “That yellow light. It comes up when the level of the gaseous liquid in the tank reaches a lower level. That level means that there is only about half a gallon of it left. The gaseous liquid is what propels the car forward. Not air. That logically means that the car is slowly running out of its fuel. That also means that you need to keep your eyes peeled for a gas station and swerve in. Get out of the car and use that plastic card! If not, you’d be stranded in the middle of the road and even pouting lips and looking like a sad damsel in distress will not help much, coz a flat tire people take pity, a gast tank is entirely one’s ridiculous folly”
So last week, I didn’t notice that the light came up within a mile or so of home. Lackadaisical as ever, I continued driving. Came home, picked up the kids, drove up to the librarywhich is within 2 miles, then drove to the Optical at 1.5 miles away, then came home 2 miles away, then drove back up to pick them up from the library, dropped them home and decided to fill that gas tank.
There’s a slight dip and rise along the narrow single lane road just outside of home.
I reach the bottom following a Rav 4, and just as I press the accelerator down, things go haywire. The dashboard lights up. It’s like how these science fiction movies show that all the circuits are going crazy when the aliens show up. My eyes go round. I hastily look up at teh rearview and realize that am just around the corner, so no car can actually see me and they would all be heading at 40 mph around the bend.
I push with all my might and invoke, who else but God!
In seconds, am on flat ground, and I make a beeline to the right most lane, right next to a Storage facility and a calmer less traffic area.
I park and the van sputters to its death.
I assess. Pick up the phone and call home. The son answers and does not talk or reply in legible words, instead laughs and laughs for a few minutes on my situation. Then he says “I don’t want to say this, but didn’t I tell you to take the can with you?”
Everyone’s a genius I think to myself.
With a few calls back and forth and a blessing in disguise of a friend who happens to be my neighbor lands after 20 minutes. I will not get into the intricacies of how the loaded can of gas refsue dto shed a drop of gas despite 180 degree tilting, or how we both struggled to find out that there was indeed a seal within that had to be removed and so on and so forth.
Yes. I did it, finally! Darn proud of myself too. I mean, such experiences do not come to the chickens.
Never mind the fact that the husband gave me an earful about how dangerous my antic was. That’s another rant when I get mad at him another day. My blog just doesn’t run just on my silliness and escapades you see…