Road Trip

 Getting out of the house has become one of those activities that, at one time, had almost been a bane of our existence, but has now become a necessity. What we miss most are those opportunities of going out together, just the two of us, for a nice trip to the grocery store, or better yet, just out tooling around the countryside on a whim or adventure. Still, getting away from the Old Woman, even if it’s a solo trip, has become our motive for keeping the car keys handy.

Any excuse to leave for a few hours is a good one.

However, neither of us can truly get “away” because our time off is wrapped in guilt for leaving the other one stuck in the pit of despair with the Old Woman. But that bit of guilt doesn’t stop us, so when an opportunity to travel 2.5 hours (one way) to see a friend came up, I didn’t blink twice, I just went. And yes, I feel guilty, and yes, Tammie gets a break very soon.

My get-away came in the form an offer to meet a friend in Olympia so I could pick up a glass etcher she was selling. We also decided to grab some lunch while we were there. I had intended to get gas on my way off the peninsula, but I was running late after having to scrape the windshield, and when I got in the car, the gas gauge read ¾ full. I figured I was good to go, so I did. And it was. It’s a Prius, so you can go a long way on about 7 gallons. Besides, there are gas stations in Olympia, so it was no big deal.

A little voice in my head said, “don’t you think you should just top it off before you go?” I told the little voice, “Bah, I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s a hybrid. I get EXCELLENT mileage.” I plugged my phone into the stereo with the aux tail, pulled up some Apocalyptica, and headed east, rocking out grooving on the familiar scenery. I passed through a couple small towns, with half a gas station each, toyed with the idea of taking a new route before remembering I was on a schedule and decided to stick with a familiar path. Pretty soon I hit the highway, tunes blaring, head nodding, feeling pretty ok.

When I got to Olympia, I still had four bars left on the gauge, so I knew I was golden. I was also hungry. My friend did some research on local Thai eateries, found a couple with good reviews and away we went. The reviews were correct, and the food was as excellent as the company. After we finished eating, we hit up an arts-n-crafts store so she could get some items for a project, and I found a watercolor book for beginners on sale, and two tiny (2.5 x 3.75 inches) tablets of hot press watercolor paper. I have some of my mom’s watercolor blocks and tablets, but they’re huge and all cold press, so I wanted to try the smoother hot press paper (without spending a huge amount of money on something I’ve never tried and may not like). Oh, yeah, guess who has a new “thing” in her life. It’s me. I have a new thing. It’s watercolor painting. It’s what my mom did and I totally see why. Watercolor is awesome.

After that, we hit a bookstore where I found another watercolor tutorial-type book in a slightly different style (and it was on sale, too!). I’m rather proud of myself for getting out of both stores for less than $40. It was a great break, but unfortunately it was time to head home. The last thing I wanted was to be on the road after dark, because deer and elk like to come out to play and none of them are afraid of little hybrid cars. I, however, am afraid of wildlife on the road, even though my car is probably small enough to zip right under most elk. Not even blasting a Nightwish CD would faze a gang of elk wandering across the road. Especially when it’s coming out of a Prius. Seriously.

(Funny aside, when I bought the car, my dad was worried that I’d get a speeding ticket, because “cops know people who drive red cars are always speeding.” I said, “It’s a Prius, Pop. The only way I could get going fast enough to get a ticket is if I was going down hill, with a tailwind.” After he saw the car, he agreed there was nothing to fear. Elk know this, too).

Anyway, I was about 10 miles from home when there was a “ding” that didn’t come from the CD, it came from my car. I had no idea what the hell was happening, until I noticed the fuel light was BLINKING! That’s an “aw shit” moment, if ever there is one. And a well-deserved “I told you so” for the little voice in my head. The last time the “ding” happened in my current ride, I was very close to home, and a gas station. There is a readout on the dash that will tell me how many miles I have left on the tank, and that time, when I was within walking distance, it was going down to TOTALLY EMPTY super fast. Since I did not want to watch my fate approach me like that so far from home, I didn’t switch the readout to show me the bad news.

Memory finally served me, because several years ago I had read an article about hyper-miling. It’s a technique you can employ to extend your gas mileage. Slow down, don’t accelerate up hill, coast whenever possible, don’t rush up to stop signs, lots of ways to improve mileage. I tried it while I was driving my old Subaru (a five-speed darling that I miss to this day) I went from 23 mpg to 38 mpg on a trip to southern Oregon, so I know hyper-miling works, and I remember how to do it.

So I hyper-miled: I pulled over to let cars go around; I went slower up the hills; I coasted as much as I possibly could. As I was still several miles from home, I called Tammie with the bad news. Since we only have one working vehicle, and I was driving it, she called her son who was on standby with a gas can. According to my car, I was getting 56 mpg, but would that be enough?

Three miles away I could see the light at the intersection where there are two gas stations. So. Close. I coasted down the last hill, accelerated slowly (much to the annoyance of the person behind me who just wanted me to get the hell out of the way), and the gas station grew closer. This time the readout said I was up to 63 mpg.

Still, the light blinked faster.

Less than ½ a mile to go, nice level road, the electric motor kicked into give me some help, boosting my mpg up to 90.

¼ mile, I was able to pull off far enough off the pavement to let the cars behind me go around, then back onto the road I went, easing my way up to the 35 mph limit and crashing my mpg to 20 as I gained the speed limit.

I reached the intersection directly across from the gas station I’d been aiming for, but their fuel delivery truck was there and all the pumps were blocked off. I turned off the music so I could think.

The light blinked faster. I saw the other gas station, 100 yards across the street to my right. I took a chance and went for it. But the driveway had been reconfigured, and I had to go a little farther to reach the pumps and I still had to cross traffic. If I stalled now, I’d be in the middle of the road with oncoming vehicles and drivers around here aren’t all that kind to fools who run out of gas in the middle of everything.

As I waited, the engine stopped and I panicked. But then my brain said, “hey, it always does than when you’re stopped more than a couple seconds, remember? It’s a Prius! Prius play dead at stops.”

Oh, yeah.

Traffic cleared, I hit the accelerator, and zoom! I bounced into the driveway and up to the pump, cheering all the way. Until I saw the price of gas at that conveniently located station. Gadzooks! With no other choice, I put a couple gallons in, knowing that would be more than enough to get me home.

I was quite pleased with myself for making those thin fumes of fuel last the final miles. But next time, I’ll allow my paranoia to have its way and I’ll make sure I have enough gas to get home without playing will she, won’t she? with my car.

I don’t need that many gray hairs all at once.