All vehicles come conveniently equipped with a “low fuel” warning light and alarm, giving the driver several miles in which to find a petrol station and fill up. That being said, I never had much sympathy for people who run out of gasoline (Brent included). My low fuel light came on the day before yesterday, and I continued to drive several miles after that. Yesterday the girls wanted to play on the playground at Skye’s school and I thought “I’ll just fill up the tank after that.” I would be driving around locally, and I felt pretty safe and invincible.

I had to stop by Renys, a Maine department store. It was on the way to the gas station, so naturally it made sense to stop there first. Just after I pulled into the parking lot the Jetta’s engine sputtered and died–right in the aisle. I left the girls in the car and ran into Renys, hoping they sold gas cans. Skye called me from her phone to ask if she could take the girls over to the grocery store to get a drink of water. I told her I would be out soon and to stay in the car.

I asked the store clerk if they sold gas cans and explained to him my predicament. He kindly directed me to the back of store where I selected a 1-gallon sized can. Skye called me again as I was checking out. I answered the phone with “I’m on my way out, Skye.” She replied, “Mommy, there’s a policeman out here.” Oh great! Not only did I run out of gas, but now I’m going to get in trouble for leaving my kids in the car alone and for partially blocking the parking lot aisle.

490 feet from my car to the gas pump

I felt a little awkward approaching the gas pump without a vehicle, and wondered if I should be wearing a hat and dark sunglasses. Fifteen seconds and $2.49 later I was headed back to my car. The police officer waited to make sure I had an adequate amount of fuel and that I would be able to start my car.

And now, for those of you who have had the unfortunate and embarrassing experience of running out of gasoline: I empathize.

I grew up in Illinois, and Brent and I lived in Kansas for many years. The Midwest is set up like a grid–plus it’s flat–which makes it pretty easy to get around. I have lived out West as well, where all the streets are numbered. Again, it’s hard to get lost or disoriented there. It’s not so simple getting around in New England. I love living here, and I’d much rather be here than anywhere else. However, I did have to get used to the many winding and one-way roads, and the streets with three or four different names. When we first moved to Maine I actually got lost while I was out running. I had to stop a fellow runner and ask her for directions so I could find my way back home. She was very understanding and helpful. It would have been nice to have a GPS then.

When Brent surprised me one day with a GPS (pink–my favorite color), I was ecstatic. I love my GPS. It’s so nice to be able to enter in an address or a “point of interest” and be directed exactly where to go. I do yell at her (it’s a British woman’s voice) on occasion because she doesn’t anticipate heavy traffic, accidents, or businesses that have closed down. Plus she’s bossy. Overall though she’s very helpful, and I’ve never gotten lost or disoriented…at least not for long. I’ve heard her say “re-calculating” more than I care to admit after I neglected to follow her exact directions.

Yes, my GPS is very useful; however I’m afraid I’ve been handicapped by it. How will I learn to navigate properly and get to know the area if I’m completely dependent on it? I do like having the ETA for my destination right down to the minute, which is often why I turn it on. I suppose I should turn off the GPS once in a while, pay attention to my surroundings, and just drive.