After spending many miles on the road it was time to stop and fill up my gas tank. My calendar called for more travel in the days to come so a full tank of gas made sense. In my plans I knew exactly which station I would visit for a fill up.

I left the office later than usual. That has its benefits. First, the freeway traffic is noticeably lighter. Second, most likely I was anticipating that the gas station would be lightly visited since most people would be home for dinner. I was wrong.My choice of a gas station was strategic. It traditionally has some of the lowest prices. Also, it has eight lines and sixteen gas pumps. Even when it’s busy the flow is always quite fast. I was wrong again.

When I rounded the corner, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The lines at this gas station were backed up to the drive way entrance. Behind each one of the pumps, there were lines that were six vehicles deep.

I was tempted to roll on by and come back at another time. Then, I looked at my gas gauge. It was the better part of valor to stop and wait in the longest lines that I have ever seen here at my first choice for gas.

Once I found my place in line, I put my transmission into neutral. Then, I looked around at my neighbors, each stoically waiting for their painful moment. There wasn’t a single happy fact to be found. I wouldn’t describe them as sad, rather I would call it resigned-to-be-annoyed.

Then, I looked ahead at those who were filling up their vehicles. Their countenance was decidedly animated. Some were shaking their heads in disbelief. Others were totally disgusted.

Finally, it was my turn to pump my own gas. The price per gallon startled me. Today, the price for gas was just pennies away from $4.00 per gallon. It was higher than it had ever been before in my lifetime here in the good ol’ USA.

Once the automatic pump stopped, I rounded the price up and had trouble trying to land the pennies on a five or zero. It moved too fast! After several tries the grand total of a full tank was more than I have ever paid for this vehicle.

I looked back at the next driver, shrugged my shoulder and felt pity for her and her full-sized SUV. She returned my sympathy with a head cocked to the side, accompanied with a deep sigh. Then, I strapped on my helmet, pulled on my gloves, straddled my seat and drove off grateful that the Lord has given me a motorcycle to ride.