I come from one of the only two states in the nation in which it’s illegal to pump your own gas. I didn’t know about the little switch on the gas pump handle that makes it hold there to a faster or slower pump rate.
Pre-paying for gas was a foreign concept to me. It is no longer. I feel enlightened. Why gas costs half a dollar more per gallon when you have to pump your own, rather than pull into a station at which a gas attendant does it for you, is beyond me.
“Pump number 3, $40 dollars worth.”
I was running on reserve, warning light on, and all, so I had to get gas pronto.
The good news is that on our errand run, we got a new log splitter maul that was better than the one that broke, and a couple of bags of groceries that we needed.
I swore I was going to drag S through Wegman’s one day, and I did so. He was as awed about the place as I was. It’s the place to go for fresh fish, and other animal flesh. I’m a little less awed about their selection of fresh produce — they were totally out of cilantro.
Next time, maybe they will have it. I should have grown it in my garden.
Wow, so if you pump your own gas you can be arrested? That’s mad.
Probably Gordon Brown’s next bright idea!
Why gas costs half a dollar more per gallon when you have to pump your own, rather than pull into a station at which a gas attendant does it for you, is beyond me.
New Jersey has really low gas prices because of the refineries. Pennsylvania has high gas prices because of a high state gas tax. They’re not actually charging you more to pump your own–it just feels that way! 😉
Ah, but NJ doesn’t always have low gas prices. It’s insulated from the highs and lows. Back in the ’90s, when gas in the Midwest and Rockies went for 95 cents a gallon, it was $1.20-ish in NJ. It’s twice that now, in NJ, but close to $3 a gallon here.
At least I learned how to operate a gas pump today without too many people looking and laughing at me. 😉
I would be so lost if I was in a state where you can’t pump your own gas. Full service stations where they pump it for you are a rarity in Iowa.
They are in MN, WI, and IN, as well, Mel. In the Carolinas, it’s not that unusual to find a station that offers full-service or pump-your-own.
At least I have a good sense of humor about it. If you laugh at me for learning a new trick, well, dammit, I’ll laugh right along with you, for even having to learn it.
I’ve never been to a gas station that you didn’t pump your own. Always thought it was something from the 50s.
Those are called drive-ins, Jerrod. 😉
“I’ll have a root beer float, a cheeseburger (no onions!), and 17 gallons worth of 87, please.”
Ah, but NJ doesn’t always have low gas prices. It’s insulated from the highs and lows.
Yes, good point!
I learned to drive in a small MA town where they pumped gas for you, then lived in NJ for a while, so I had a bit of panic the first time I pumped my own.
I don’t think my dad has ever pumped his own gas.
My dad was a career-long Esso/Exxon guy before he retired. He still pays attention to the industry, and gas prices.
I think I’ll advise him to tank up in NJ, before visiting me in PA, even though a round trip will only consume 1/4 of a tank at highway speeds.
Yes, I had a bit of a panic, but now I know how to pump my own gas. It’s almost as easy as writing a dumbshit blog entry like this one.
I wish they’d bring back the girls on roller skates to check your oil.
Only if they’re wearing short skirts or hot pants.
I actually sort of miss full-service gas stations. Back about the time they began disappeaing in the late 70s, my brother owned a ’56 four-door Chevy Belair, and I had a ’63 Chevy Corvair. I loved taking Steve’s ’56 to full-service stations and telling the poor sod to fill it up, then watching with glee while he circled the car looking for the gas cap. It was behind the driver’s side tail-light assembly, which folded down. Next trip, I’d tell him to check the oil in my Corvair, and laugh at him trying to pry the trunk lid open. Hey, dummy, the engine’s around back. Then he’d try to check the water on an air-cooled car. Haha. Fun times.
Surprisingly few attendants knew how to pop the hood on an ’88 Saab 900. I’d pull the lever, then watch as they tried to just open the front end of it, rather than slide it forward and tilt it down.