It seems like a trend to me lately. Road trips are never simple. Fly on a plane, take a bus, take a train, even ridesharing, everything goes perfectly fine.
Put me in a car as the driver, all hell breaks loose. I'm not kidding.
After putting all the finishing touches on my condo purchase, I went to judge the apple pie baking contest at the Super Ex in Ottawa. It's not as glamorous as it sounds, trust me.
At precisely 7:35 p.m. in the evening I headed out. Somewhere in between Ottawa and Montreal, I noticed the gas was running out... right after I passed the convenient service station.
"I should turn around," I thought.
"Nah, something else will turn up soon I'm sure, I mean, I'm on the 417, what could go wrong?"
Three more exits, I see nothing indicating a gas station anywhere.
Predictably, the gas light starts flashing. In a Smart Car, that means I can drive 5 km before I run out of gas... OK, so I pull over at the next exit. It's not too late, and there must be some gas somewhere here.
The sign says 5 km to Pointe Fortune. Oh god, I hope they have a gas station...I'm cutting it close.
I drive through town, don't see a gas station, pull into a restaurant, they are just closing for the night.
"Hey, is there any gas here? I've almost run out."
"Nope, you've gotta drive to Rigaud, 10 km down the road."
"OMG no... I'm not going anywhere else. I'll sleep here if I have to..."
"Then you'll have to ask at the ferry..."
I drive down to the ferry on my last drops of gas. Of course they are completely Francophone and obviously do not want to help me. After convincing them that I REALLY need to buy some gas off of them, they scrounge up a small tank of diesel that the manager uses in her tractor.
I hug the friendly rolly polly ferry operator and get off on my way.
After all this stressfulness, I really have to pee, and I honestly can't wait for the next gas station, so I pull over and promptly pee on the side of the road. All over my only pair of pants...
Good thing I'm driving south? I guess?
I heard that it'll warm in Boston this weekend. Hopefully I won't need those pants...
Completely frustrated and angry with myself and still shaking with fear a little bit, I ponder whether or not the gas that the french guy gave me was diesel, I get changed and reluctantly head out on the highway again.