Gasless in the Carolinas

Roadtrip!” Visions of Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Vacation and John Belushi’s scream of “Roadtrip!” in Animal House jumped into my consciousness. The reality was a 1,300 mile car trip up the I-95 to a bat mitzvah in New Jersey. Armed with Google Maps, hotel booking websites,  speed trap detectors,  streaming music services, several bags of M and M’s and 14 gallons of gasoline filling the tank assured me of a well-planned trip that could not be marred with concern or interruption.  I guided the Subaru SUV onto the steaming Florida Highway Interstate and headed North. 

Rumbling past Jacksonville (Named for Andrew Jackson, who knew?) and over the St. Mary’s River into Georgia, the motels and the Loblolly Pines blurred together as we approached the South Carolina state line. A few hundred miles later, my smart car, uttered in a distinguished Bostonian accent, “your fuel levels are low, shall I search for a gas station?” I pushed mute, left the I-95 in Fayetteville and was ready for a quick fill up in the nearest Circle K. Soon enough, a station appeared that was empty of cars but thoughtfully the pump handles were ensconced with plastic. This was a nice Covid protection, I thought. As I squeezed the pump handle with ever increasing pressure, the fuel gauge failed to engage.  My wife stuck her head out of the passenger side of the window, and exclaimed in that know-it-all-tone, “The plastic on the handle means they are out of gas. I reminded you 200 miles ago that a computer hack shut down the Colonial Pipeline and gas would be scare in the Carolinas.”  “It’s a big town, we’ll find gas,” I stammered. Confident that all that fracking, gulf oil reserves and the assurances of Colonial Pipeline execs would lead to a full tank down the road. 

My swagger started to fracture after four empty stations and a “skull and crossbones” emoji appeared near the gas gauge. Limping into a Red Roof Inn on less than one gallon, I anticipated a long layover, minutes from Fort Bragg and the U.S. Army Special Operation Command. Was there a way out? Scrolling down GasBuddy, multiple stations appeared with a slash across the gas tank indicating dead pumps.   Logging off the internet and onto the sidewalk, we hiked a mile up to the nearest 7-11 in search of up-to-date information on gas shipments.  My wife brought a wad of 20s with her in case bribing would be required. “A tanker was spotted five miles away heading toward a Circle K,” the cashier said in a slow Southern drawl. We coasted to our destination and got in line with 50 other cars desperately fighting for fuel. The hour wait was filled with mathematics and history flashbacks. What is the fuel volume delivered by the standard tanker divided by the autos ahead of us?   Memories of the Arab Oil Embargo and waiting for my 1/2 tank of gas with my even license plate was a returning visual in my mind.  Now, 43 years later, I could not think of how I would tell my younger self that I would be gas deficient four decades later due to rogue computer hackers. The moment had arrived, the pump inserted and the sweet distilled hydrocarbon liquid flowed into the tank. I peered to the side and saw a guy in military fatigues pumping gas into his Mustang. Could Special Ops storm Russia and unplug every hacking computer network? Not so easy. Another thought entered my mind from my pumping experience: the leaf controlled the dinosaur kingdom millions of years ago and now oil and gas clearly controlled a trip up the Eastern Coast and dictated our potential absence or presence at a bat mitzvah.

We rolled out of the Carolinas the following morning while tracking the gas gauge every 50 miles and filling up before the fuel gauge got below 3/4. Never take gas for granted!  Shortages of gas delivery and panic buying is a real American response. Perhaps, I thought in a rare moment of self-reflection, i should listen to my wife (who did tell me in December 2019 that a global pandemic was about to occur from a virus found in Wuhan China) regarding human behavior and its defensive responses under pressure and fear. Finally, bring on the electric cars!

One Reply to “Gasless in the Carolinas”

Comments are closed.