Sunday, April 8, 2012

Conoco Can't Service Me

As previously featured on raspy wit (see the post entitled "the mobility quest" or click Here to be automatically redirected) getting my drivers license was a hard earned achievement for me. Not only did I have to take the drivers test 3 times but I was 16 for a full month before my parents, and the state, finally trusted me with a motor vehicle.
But I got my license.
The first thing I did after securing that glorious piece of paper was drive to my best friend Elise's house. There I honked, waved and shouted for her to join me in "Roger".

Sidenote: Roger is the name of my first car - he is a 1981 Volkswagon Rabbit with cracked white vinyl seats, a shiny red paint job, that mothy "vintage" scent and a leaky convertible top that takes 30 minutes to change and gets stuck in the rain.

Elise joined me in Roger and since she didn't have her license yet and we essentially had no other friends we relished in our first taste of unsupervised vehicular freedom. 
Problem was we had nowhere to go and nobody else to share our freedom with so we ended up driving around for most of the afternoon visiting various grocery stores and flashing our keys at each and every pedestrian. 

Oh, and of course, there was ice-cream. 

After driving around enough to deplete 1/2 a tank of gas we realized the little glowing light on the side of the dash meant we would most likely run out of fuel. 

Excellent, we would fill up the gas tank like real adult drivers do - one more adventure to check off our driving check list.  

As novice drivers we had no idea that gas prices vary depending on the grade of station you choose. We chose the closest one to our current location, a conoco. As most of you know - conoco is not a cheap station.

 I now use only flying J, Maverick or Sams Club for 1-2 cent cheaper gas.

Am I getting questionable gas grades? Yes.
Is my gas possibly cut with water, food coloring or other non-fuel products? Yes.
Am I saving almost a full dollar per fill-up? Oh yeah.

Anyway - filling up at Conoco went something like this.

On the first pass we drove up to the wrong side of the terminal.

Honest Mistake. Quick Fix.

So we drove around. 

.... But were still on the wrong side. 

So we drove around again

And Again

After failing to master the art of gas tank siding we decided the hoses were long enough they must be made to reach OVER cars since our car was obviously incompatible with right sided pumps. 


This meant only one thing, conoco could not service us. 

 We thought we had learned a new lesson, that gas stations were brand specific.

VolksWagon is a german company after all, and Conoco didn't sound german at all.

We considered finding a 7-11 or a maverick but decided the blinking red gas light may not allow us to make it all the way. The last thing we wanted was to run out of gas in the middle of main street, in a stick shift roger with a license for one day. 

This required much thought. 

The thought payed off and we had a brilliant idea. 

This was our brilliant idea: 

It took us 20 minutes, mad reverse skills and the total of our combined allowances but we finally filled up Roger. 

The End. 


  1. I love you, Whitney! You always make me laugh! Especially since I am sure I probably did this same thing, it was just so long ago I can't remember it!

  2. I had a similar experience, in a volkswagon. You're hilarious.

  3. You probably didn't know I read your blog but I do and it makes me laugh hysterically. This one really got me though (oh and the last one too about your honeymoon). Very funny. Okay, that's all. Keep posting. Bye.

  4. I love your blog. I wish I could do illustrations like this on my blog :) I subscribed


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