OK, I have a bit of time now to fill in the exciting details of my Fresno trip, the one sketched out in an earlier post in cryptic, comic-like photo form.
First of all, ever since a seriously expensive repair last year in Calgary, my gas gauge no longer works. But it no longer works in a very random way.
This would indicate that my tank in full, right? But it isn’t. And if the gauge were always at this place, no problem, I’d learn soon that it wasn’t accurate. But sometimes it looks like this…
This photo was taken 20 minutes before the previous one. 20 more minutes and it will be on E. Then half full. Then who knows. I don’t have pictures of all of this – I am trying to pay attention to the road, you know.
I think they replaced the gauge with slot machine parts. I only mention this because it’s a testament to the human being’s ability to adapt. The first few times I looked down and saw the needle on E, my heart sank – and this was after I knew it was broken. It’s pretty Pavlovian – like how your heart rate increase when you see a cop car, even if you aren’t doing anything wrong.
But now I’m good with it. I look down to consult it like it’s some kind of oracle, like the needle position is somehow an indication of my current psychic state. Then I make personal adjustments accordingly. Sometimes these adjustments include pulling over to get gas.
It’s a long drive to Fresno.