jamie doom

Getting in my car at my dad’s office after church I noticed, as I had suspected, that my car fuel gauge was on empty. There are only two times when my fuel gauge light is not lit. 1.) Every other Friday right after I get paid. B.)I love doing that!) When someone else offers pays for the gas. But, I really do believe my car gets better gas mileage when it’s on empty. Needless extra gallons I won’t be using in the near future sloshing around in my gas tank seems like dead weight to me.

So with the help of gravity–my father’s office is at the top of the hill, the gas station at the bottom–I made it to the gas station. And, since I had faithfully mailed in the minimum payment on one of my maxed-out credit cards, I knew that the balance on that card was probably $993.97, leaving me a whole six dollars of wiggle room. I put the six dollars worth of premium into my BMW, which turns out to be about 1.9 gallons (shaking my fist at Osama as I type this). Of course, the fuel light flicked back on just as I was turning out of the gas station.

My BMW has been wrecked once, one fog light is missing thanks to that fateful trip to rescue you from the Atlanta airport, my rear view mirror is missing thanks to your arm-waving victory dance of excitement over me rescuing you from the Atlanta airport, my sun roof only opens a quarter of the way, you could shred cheese with my brake rotors, my power windows in the back don’t always roll down when it’s convenient for me, some thoughtless Philistine banged his truck door (white) against my passenger door (black) while I was in Circuit City one day making the minimum payment on my maxed-out Circuit City card, last week the horn started going off for no reason forcing me to take the horn fuse out, and to top it all off my left blinker blinks far too fast–sometimes but not all the time—like it has Turret’s. So why, my dear friend, do I perpetuate the sham of putting PREMIUM gas into this daily devaluing hunk of metal. Who am I fooling really? I’m certainly not fooling my car.

You can’t abuse your BMW by taking off like a bat out of hell after every single red light then hope to placate it later with 1.9 gallons of premium. I mean, after suffering all these other indignities, would the Beemer really notice I used 89 instead of 93?

For whatever reason, realizing how I had been seeking to fool myself and the rest of the world one premium gallon at a time made me quite happy. A silly grin was on my face as I pressed “No” when the gas pump asked me if I wanted a receipt. A receipt for what…? My records? Hah! Suddenly it was all shaping up to be a grand comedy.

It was 9:00 p.m. now, and this tremendous (note the use of a power word) evening was coming in waves. I was formulating how I would spend the rest of my night as I pulled into the driveway. Then, as I was walking up the stairs to my apartment, the most amazing thing happened. It was a bit of serendipity, perhaps, or a stroke of mental luck, maybe. For I remembered my rented movies were due back that very night. I sat on my couch for a while, frozen, and stared at the not-late-yet movies. I didn’t really know what to do. I was scared and excited at the same time. So, feeling better all the while, I put them in their proper cases. The movie store closed at 10:00 and it was only 9:00. I pushed aside those lazy thoughts of calling it a night and returning the movies late, as was my normal custom, and instead put each movie in its proper box and literally skipped back down the stairs.

In the car, on the way to the movie store, I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and made up pithy ditties about un-dilatory, rewound movies. Oh, things were looking up, friend. In my euphoric state, I entered the movie store by throwing the door open wide and presented the movies one at a time with a slight bow. I said the titles slowly as I set them down on the return counter.

“The…..Count…of…..Monte….Cristo.”

I looked around making eye contact with each person in the store.

“And….” pause, pause, pause…”Ong-Bak…The…Thai…Warrior.” I rapped the clear plastic Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior case with my knuckles and added succinctly. “On time…and…in their proper cases.”

Suddenly, embarrassed by the attention and the look of envy in the other customer’s eyes, I turned around and summarily left the store. I could feel a bit of awe escape through the movie store doors right before they shut.

I sat in my car for a moment, and tried to think about what life would be like with no late fees. I paused, shuddered for a moment, not fully understanding the extent of it all and started the car. I slowly weaved my way out of the video store parking lot, trying not to hit the throngs who had gathered, no doubt, to catch a glimpse of the “triumphant returner”.