In Which "Rosie the Riveter" from Yesterweek Becomes a Sobbing "I Need a Big Strong Man Now" Wreck

Last week, I was woman. Did you hear me roar?


This afternoon (at 12:37 pm to be exact)--I was the epitome of a mess of "weak female."

Apparently, diagnosing the problem and fixing my dishwasher all by myself gave me a false sense of "girl power," and the "powers that be" decided I needed to be knocked back down to size.

While waiting for my daughter to finish her dance class, a lovely little "beep" sounded from the dash of my vehicle. I love that little "beep." It tells me that I have low fuel level. This keeps my ADD self from running out of gas.

Instead of driving clear out to a gas station that I use all the time and trust, I decided to pull in to a small one near my daughter's studio. So small, in fact, that it didn't have a credit card reader on the pump. It did, however, have gas for $3.61 (sad that this is considered a bargain)!

I filled up--$71 (ouch!) and went in to pay. Nothing out of the ordinary so far.

I got into my car and turned it on. The same "beep" sounded from my dash. Funny how a "beep" can be your friend when it is letting you know that you have low fuel, but suddenly becomes your enemy when it is STILL telling you that you have "low fuel" and you just put $71 worth of gas in your car, thankyouverymuch!

No problem. I told myself. I turned off the car and calmly restarted it. Same beep. Same gas gauge with the red needle on empty. Panic was starting to kick in. I held myself in check, though, and went to make sure I had tightened the gas cap and closed the little door. I restarted the car. No change.

Now I really started to panic. Visions of a bad "Nightline" interview flashed in my mind as I saw myself as a victim of a terrible gas scam where the pumps were rigged to make it SOUND like you were getting gas, but in fact you weren't. I mean, my car isn't THAT old. And how strange would it be for the gas gauge to go out the minute I was gasing up in some obscure station in a "colorful" part of town? (Have I mentioned that I am not a particularly trusting person?)

I went in to the store and asked if the pump could possibly be empty. The lady assured me this was impossible--the ball in my gas tank probably just got "stuck." I went back to my car to look for my receipt (which I couldn't find--did the lady even give me one?) and call my husband (who was out of town). I got his voice mail.

I could feel the tears start welling up in my eyes as I grabbed my owner's manual--trying to figure out what in the world could be wrong. After pages of "only get gas from a reputable company," and "use the same type of fuel in your vehicle every time," and "always make sure that your vehicle is facing the same direction when you get gas" (are you freakin' KIDDING me?!) and no answers, I texted my husband's phone with a huge SOS.

Now the "weak female" mindset had kicked in with full force. Should I pick up my daughter? Sit here and do nothing? I couldn't very well leave and drive 30 miles on the highway without knowing whether or not I had gas in my car.

I decided to go get my daughter from dance--a block away. As I drove there, the gas gauge began to slowly climb. 1/8 tank full...1/4 tank full...3/8 full...

My heart slowly returned to it's normal rhythm. But seriously...WHERE is a big, strong male when you need one???

Oh, yeah. Columbus, OH!