For the first time in 94,000 miles, my car flashed her, “Dude, I’m running on fumes” light. I was only a few blocks from my regular gas station, so I pulled in and filled up.
It was twelve gallons.
My car has a tank that holds 15.5 gallons. And I know (because I read it in the manual once) that the “Dude, I’m running on fumes” light comes on when you are down to 1.5. So I know (because I can do math) that I should have required 14 gallons to fill that tank.
I pulled out of the station wondering who was fibbing – the gauge or the gas station.
As it happens, my next errand was to pick up Gibbs. Doggie Do Rite happens to be next door from my mechanic, so I stopped in and told my story to Bill.
“So,” I finished. “Who is fibbing? Car or gas station?”
“Well,” Bill said. “The way I remember it, gas stations are highly regulated and tested on a regular basis. The gauge on your car…”
I knew it. I knew my car was a big faker-drama queen.