I like reading gas prices out loud. This may seem unusual to you, but it’s one of my hobbies. I like to read the prices out loud and comment on how they compare to the average price. I like to point out the difference in prices from block to block. I like to talk about today’s prices compared to yesterday’s and last week’s. I know which sections of town have the highest prices and which have the lowest.
While I say I’m interested in gas prices, my husband says I’m obsessed. He came to this conclusion after he saw me become breathless when we passed a station with unusually cheap gas. I wasn’t actually breathless, I was choking on my own saliva. That choking wasn’t caused by gas prices but by a swallowing mishap. He doesn’t want to believe that. That’s his choice.
If my interest in gas prices is an obsession, it isn’t my fault. You see, I come from a gas-priced-obsessed family. My mother will drive for miles to save a few pennies on gas. The gas she used to get to that cheap gas station doesn’t matter. My parents can have a lively debate on where to get the cheapest gas. No matter how much you paid for gas, we’ve bought it cheaper someplace else.
When I see a person filling up at a station with prices two, three or sometimes even ten cents more expensive than the station up the road, I feel pity for them. I feel pity for anyone who pays more than they have to for gas.
So when I cut in front of you to turn abruptly into a gas station, don’t be angry. Follow me. Top off your already nearly full tank. Squeeze every drop that you can into it and smile, knowing you just bought the cheapest gas in town.