For some people, their car defines their image. For others, their car just reveals it.
We were filling our car at a little gas station when we noticed a young man pushing his car up the driveway of the station. He was a skinny guy but he had the driver’s door open so he could steer while he ran alongside the car, pushing. He was persistent.
His car like a faded tank that gulped gas. It must have run dry somewhere nearby.
All the gas pumps were occupied so he guided his old vehicle to the curb of the convenience store and waited. He leaned against the front fender, his arms folded, ankles crossed. He was patient.
Finally a spot cleared and he walked confidently to the front bumper, bent low, and heaved.
The car rolled like a lumbering ox to the open pump. He skittered to the driver’s door and punched down the brake. He was inventive.
By this time, we had sympathy for this man who obviously collided with a touch of bad luck by running out of gas before he got to the station.
He settled his car near the pump like a mother tucking in her toddler and pulled out his wallet.
Relief was in sight.
Then he pulled out $5 and slid it into the payment slot.
He pumped his gas in less time than it takes to read this paragraph. He tightened the gas cap and drove away.
I knew then why he rolled his car with such confidence. Yes, he was persistent and patient and inventive.
But mostly because he had done it before. Recently.
