#33 – A Full Gas Tank

Actually, not just a full gas tank. I’m talking about that brief period of time right after you fill up, when the needle actually rests above the F. That, my friends, is freedom.

You feel like the whole world is your oyster (though, now that I use it, what does that expression even really mean? Don’t most people dislike oysters? I do. I find the consistency disgusting, but that’s neither here nor there).

Either way… I don’t know about you, but every time this happens, there’s a part of me that feels like I should just take off for some sort of ridiculous road trip. Maybe I’ll head to California or down South. Perhaps Boston or Chicago. Point is, not wherever I am at that exact moment. Then, of course, reality sets in. The attendant hands me back my credit card with my receipt, I thank him, he mutters unintelligibly in Russian and I carry on my way.

Sometimes the greatest feelings are the most fleeting. This is one of those cases.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling? When that light comes on and you have no idea how much time you have left til you run out of gas. Your life turns into Hunger Games for a gas station.

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