Crisis

Today, my generation has reached a landmark. For years, our baby-boomer parents have griped about how "we" have it so good and how "they" had real problems to deal with in their day. Like waiting in line to fill their tanks at the gas pump.

Now, my peers and I can officially tell our parents' generation what part of our bodies they can eat because it has finally happened to us.

For me, September 12th was pay-day and my gas-light was on. The weight of the situation hit me as soon as I saw the party of vehicles patiently waiting for their turn at the 16 or more pumps provided.

As I waited patiently for the Chevy Tahoe in front of me, I realized that this particular customer probably has to spend twice as much to fill a tank twice as big as the 12 gallons I put into my '03 Honda Civic. She probably has to fill it up more than twice every two weeks as well.

The sheer number and frequency of fill-ups at the Avalon Park Mobile station made the pumps operate brutally slow. I counted an increase of ten cents over 2 seconds. After spending $47 dollars to fill my 12-13 gallon tank, it is accurate to say that the pump required a little over 15 minutes to displace 13 gallons of fuel.

Incredible.

I hope that this experience was only a fluke. Nevertheless, I still believe it to be important that in the 6 years I have been a licensed driver, the price of gas has doubled. Doubled! I've checked the math countless times. Our parents did not have shell out twice the scratch to fill their tanks by the time they were 22 and in college, but alas, nobody said that life, or the business of oil, was fair.

I feel better having blogged it though,
EAW

Hi. Let's be friends.

Today is the First for me and my blog. We thought about it for a long time, talked openly about our feelings with it and decided that we were both mature and ready. Mutually.

So on this first day, rather than comment on the Caylee Anthony story, I would like to take a paragraph to remember Be Your Own Pet, the Nashville punk outfit that could have been the best band you never heard. If their four years of service were only to put out one tremendous album (Be Your Own Pet, 2006), put out one not-as-tremendous album (Get Awkward, 2008), break a lot of microphones, and give this 22-year-old speed nerd a reason to get up in the morning, than it would have all been worth it.

God bless those wirey punks,
EAW