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GasSeptember 07, 2006 I've got a horse-sitting job for the next few days in the farther reaches of West Tisbury, so this morning I was up there bright and pretty early (about 7:30) -- functioning quite well, thank you, before I'd had either my tea or my oatmeal, and not driven to stop at one of the (admittedly, few) coffee-dispensing establishments between here and there. My fuel gauge was halfway between the last quarter line and the big Empty and my favorite gas station was just up the road, so I stopped in on the way home. Did a double-take when I saw the prices on top of the pump. Blinked, squinted, blinked again. It was true: regular was $3.289 a gallon. "Gas is cheap!" I crowed to the nice guy on duty. "Boy, have they got you trained," he chuckled. Last time I filled up it was $3.729. That was on August 8, unless I'm missing a credit-card slip; this is entirely possible, because I'm usually in for more every couple of weeks, but as I've said before, I don't get out much so it's also possible that I last filled up on August 8. He said maybe they'd put in a direct pipeline from the Gulf of Mexico to Saudi Arabia and were siphoning oil direct from under the desert. "Don't they know the oil is there to lubricate the earth?" "Hmmm," I thought aloud, "maybe that's what's keeping the core of the earth hot? When the fuel runs out, the molten core will freeze and that'll be it for earth." This sounded too dismal for a bright September morning, so I added, "What the hell, I'll be dead by then. I don't care." He nodded, passing a handful of dog biscuits through the window -- to the relief of Rhodry, who'd been tracking his every movement since the moment I cut the ignition. "Sun goes out, we've only got eight minutes." Rhodry snarfed his biscuits off the seat. We commiserated about the demotion of Pluto while he put some air in Uhura's rear left tire. Woops. The tire inspector has grown lax in her duties.
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