My Suburban’s name is Nellie, and I am often found patting her dash, giving her the Little Suburban That Could speech, “I think you can! I think you can! I think you can!” She’s an old(ish) girl, but we still owe on her we love her, so we want her to last.
One of her particular quirks is that when the gas gauge gets to about a quarter of a tank, the needle begins sweeping back and forth from empty to full. It’s kind of charming, in a “I wonder when I’m going to run out of gas” sort of way. I’ve learned to just tally how much gas I put in each time, and watch the miles in between, figuring on about 10mpg. (::coughcoughsputterchoke::, I know) What I sometimes forget to figure in, though, are the times that Nellie spends her gas idling in the student drop off/pick up lines, waiting for daughters M12 and H14.
This morning as I was on my way to drop off daughter M12 at school, Nellie let me know in no uncertain terms that my faulty 10mpg + idling in school lots calculation = OUT OF GAS. The old girl shut down, power steering and all, and I was grateful, so grateful, that I was able to pull out of the way of the other parents before the big kaput.
I was also grateful for two other things – I did not have toddler Eli with me, and I was actually mostly dressed (unlike some mornings when I wear my mumu and fuzzy slippers to drop of my daughter!). I did not, however, happen to bring my cell phone with me. Won’t do that again.
Everything turned out alright, as daughter M12 ran into the school to call my husband, who quickly came and set everything back to normal. I had to laugh about one thing: while we were gone to the gas station, someone in the meantime had thought to put a business card for a discount towing company in Nellie’s window. I think it might have scared her just a little, but alas, she’s back in the ol’ barn tonight, and we’re looking forward to a better morning tomorrow.