I’ve been out of gas. completely. even now, as I’m typing this down.
This morning I was totally broke that the question ‘Aren’t you buying petrol?” could only be answered by ‘with what?”.
The needle was sinking way beyond the bottom line.
Tthe last line that possibly doesn’t actually mean ’empty’.
because most car makers wouldn’t think its drivers are cheap enough not to buy gas even their car tells them so.
except you’re at Timbuktu or making movies with dramatic effects.
That red line on your fuel indicator, is obviously aren’t there for show. And the yellow tiny light that blinks isn’t being cute.
but the choice was to ignore it and let my desperate 1300cc engine revs up thirsty with whatever gasoline+dirt mixture that’s left on my tank.
This might or might not have resulted in the dream I had about getting into a painstaking building to park at.
and having to speed up somewhere, by a group of Italian mechanic on red. [gee..I wonder what car they specialize on!]
They’re mouthing/signaling us to get up and go, step on it and accelerate because apparently “we’re way behind”.. God knows from what pack.
To this I had to stick my head out of the side window saying, “but we can’t, NO HAY DINERO!!”
to buy petrol, we meant.
Don’t ask me why i try to speak spanish to italians.
it’s a friggin dream. They’re the fruit of my subconscious, which i have no control of whatsoever. I don’t speak them languages, so I don’t suppose the subconscious-me did.
As i suspect they’re Italian and still clueless of the idea of being out-of-gas.
you can imagine how this haunts me.
a mix up of some bunch of Italians speaking gibberish that i responded with broken Spanish.
my biggest nightmare.
Horrible, horrible nightmare..
Out of gas on a unreasonably priced car with broken fan-belt, rear break light and wobbly car boot, when a pit-full of red clad mechanic crews are supposed to crank you up for speed.
I woke up today drenched in sweat and hogged someone else’s car instead.
Which got two lines worth of gas.
that’s way loads.