Why Do I Drive With An Empty Gas Tank?
I sincerely welcome your unprofessional opinion
My boyfriend recently pointed out that I have a habit of driving well past the first ding of the “running out of gas” warning in my car. It dings when I have 50 gallons left, then again at 25 and 10 and then at 0.
If I told you this was a new thing, I’d be lying.
I laugh in the face of those dings. Those dings mean nothing to me. But I am a little curious how they lost their power.
Years ago, when I was the editor of LA Magazine’s car culture blog (I had a column called Lady Driver, it was pretty sick), I met all kinds of ~car experts~ who were used to discussing horse power and suspension and … torque. I think. Despite the googling I did beforehand to sound car smart, I usually ended up asking them about their favorite highway exit or breakfast burritos. Once, I admitted to a Ford engineer that I regularly drove until my little Ford Fiesta’s gas light dinged.
”We know,” he said. “People have always done that and always will.” He explained that the gas light was called a warning for a reason. It’s just a warning. Disaster is close, but it’s not here yet. Most cars have up to 40 miles worth of gas squirreled away, mostly to make sure you get to a station before puttering out.
And I’m not the only one who does it! There’s an entire website called tankonempty.com dedicated to compiling how far different models can go after the warning light pops up. Color me vindicated.
But why. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?!
I should’ve already learned my lesson. I’ve run out of gas only once (knock on wood), but it was in the middle of a four way intersection on Sunset Blvd. at 7am, possibly the dumbest and worst place to run out of gas in all of Los Angeles besides the 405.
Now I carry a red empty plastic gas tank in my trunk in case I ever run out again … but I still ignore the warning light.
My boyfriend pointed out that I push the limit of my luck when it comes to gas, but also that sometimes I’ll be telling a story and suddenly yell, “IT’S A METAPHOR!” like it’s a jump scare.
So ... is it a metaphor?
The moral of the story could be something gloriously Hallmark … HEED THE WARNING LIGHTS! Fill your gas tank. You are the gas tank, you are the gas. YOU ARE THE CAR! You are the street signs. You are the Kind Bar I pick up at the cash register as I asked to put $40 on number one. Take care of yourself.
Self CARE. SELF … CAR?!?!?!
Sure, okay. Yeah. Let’s take a second to keep an eye out for warning lights on the dashboard of life. Does your heart need an oil change?
Or am I just lazy? It’s definitely possible.
Did you know that in Portland you’re not allowed to pump your own gas? Like in New Jersey. You have to wait in your car until an attendant comes over to help. A few times, I’ve handed them my debit card and then had to get out of the car anyway to type my pin number. It’s not a perfect system, but I’ve had a few nice conversations during these exchanges. One person pointed to a cloud of black birds and told me that it was crows — they gather at sunset to protect each other once it gets dark.
Is that a metaphor too?
But back to my gas situation (insert fart noise). Am I avoiding going to the gas station or am I chasing the thrill of cutting it close? Hoping a therapist or at the very least a TikTok psychiatrist would have content about my wild petrol gambling habit, I did a little google.
You know what came up? About 8,000 articles on gasLIGHTING. How to recognize it, how to avoid it, how to make sure you’re not doing it to yourself. I learned a lot from this article about gaslighting’s etymology and the dangers of using the word casually. Turns out the term comes from a play produced in 1938 about a lady who can no longer trust what’s real and what’s not because her frickin’ husband is messing with the gas lights in their home. Gross.
Maybe it’s a control thing. The gas warning, not the gaslighting(even though that is almost always a control thing). Maybe I like taking a teeny risk and seeing how the world doesn’t end. I like trusting that I know my car and how long we can keep going on empty. I don’t drink anymore, I don’t smoke. I quit dabbling in hurtful relationships. I don’t want to jinx it, but I haven’t over-drafted my debit card in years. If this is my vice, is it all that bad?
As the guy in Cars famously said, “Life is a highway, and I’m gonna drive it all night long.”
Even with my gas light on.
Coming up in the next few weeks: normal people fashion show, vegetable sleep schedules, and Alaskan small town drama!
Thank you so much for reading.
Love,
Christina