Running out of gas.

For whatever reason I wish that the title to this blog meant that I was physically tired and my body was running out of energy. Like a marathon runner approaching the end of a long race. Or a pitcher that just threw 27 outs and earned a perfect game.

It doesn't.

Instead I"m personally fully loaded. I just took a five week vacation. Upon returning the most challenging thing I've done was change a poop filled diaper of Koren's, and yes I've only done that once since we've returned from our trip. Anymore times and I might truly be questioning our decision to make three kids (well not the making part, just the conceiving part).

I wish today would have been a rare day, a day that we could look back upon and giggle because it was the one speck of dirt on an otherwise perfect window. Unfortunately my window looks like it belongs on a four wheel drive truck that just made it through a day of mud-bogging, then for good measure something threw-up on the inside just to make sure both sides were well coated with something.

What am I getting at?... After 3 years, 2 months, and 17 days I ran out of gas, again. Yes, this has happened on many occasions. Today's was particularly embarrassing. In the past I blamed it on a faulty fuel gauge (it probably wasn't faulty but Samantha didn't know any difference!) now the only thing at fault is the dummy who doesn't read the gauge, see the big orange warning light, or hear the LOUD dinging that I am low on fuel. Yes, I am that dummy.

So we went to a garage sale today. It was a bad sale, mostly junk (as if garage sales in Gillette, Wyoming are ever anything more than just junk). I left the van running to keep my precious little Samantha cool in the sweltering 82 degree heat. Apparently at some point while I was inspecting what I thought might be a Ford wrench to add to the tractor's tool box, the van started to chug. Samantha is familiar with this sound. In seven years of dating/marriage she understands that difference between this particular sound and engine malfunction. She immediately shut off the van. I should also point out that we were parked lopsided on the street, in that the van leaned more towards the east. Which is an obvious sight that the fuel is sitting in the tank the farthest away from the fuel pump. (This sounds good, but I really couldn't tell you if I'm telling the truth! But it is important that you believe me on this fact, Samantha does, or at least I think she does.)

When I returned to the van, disappointed because the wrench was did not bear the ford emblem, I tried to restart the vehicle. It didn't start. To make a long story short, in town I walked 1 mile to the nearest gas station, spent $13 on a gas can that costs $2.50 at Wal-Mart, in which I deposited 1.5 gallons of gas.

I quickly hiked back the mile, deposited the gas in the tank, and returned to the drivers seat and fired up the mini-van like a conquering hero. I personally felt that it was a good lesson for Tristan, who along with his little brother Koren, Aundrea and mommy had to wait about 20 minutes in the blistering van for my return, without A/C no less. My lesson for my son was... I am man, I can forget everything, and fix very little, by I am very good at walking to the gas station all by myself.

Samantha has worn a frown all day since the moment the van's first "chug". Needless to say she hasn't had a lot of things she wants to talk about today!

I should also add that I have run out of gas at least 4 other times with Samantha...

Once while dating, once the weekend we got engaged (2 AM on a very non-busy road in North Dakota... it was also March, guy made me ride in the back of his truck for 20 miles... the truck didn't have a top), once on our honeymoon (In Madison, Wisconsin, I had the aweful pleasure of hitchhiking to a gas station with a lady that offered me marijuana, that could have been interesting for my new bride), once on our way back to Michigan for Christmas with mom and dad, (easiest time ever, highway guy stopped and put gas in my car for me and wouldn't accept a dime, I am still convinced he was Jesus dressed up as a 350 pound Indiana toll worker).

I am so superbly gifted at running out of gas. Samantha's grandpa got me a gas can for our wedding, he was 90 years old at the time, and apparently thought my biggest character flaw was that I ran out of gas with his grand daughter in the car.

Guess that's not so bad.