I know the average American has their eye on gas prices. It's been climbing non-stop for the last few years. To the point where gas pumps actually cut people off at $75 (or it's the bank . . . or both) while gassing up. And for some, this is maybe half a tank.
I doesn't cost me quite that much to gas up, but I do have an SUV, so it's not overly cheap to gas up either. It gets pretty decent gas mileage, it drives great, and it's what I use to deliver our publication on my route - so it has a decent storage capacity.
Living in the middle of nowhere typically means higher gas prices, simply because it costs more to transport it to the middle of nowhere. Living in a big city usually means high prices, because . . . because . . . there are more suckers in a square radius that need to fill up? God only knows. All we do know is that gas prices will probably cause more heart attacks than red meat.
Last weekend, my grandmother K, surprised me by giving me Mother's Day and Monday off to go visit family. On my way out of town I stopped at a store to get a bag for my mom's present, as I didn't have anything left that didn't say Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday. I saw the price of gas at the Shell station next to the store and nearly wrecked my precious car from choking.
Now, I know that our little corner of CA is not the most expensive gas in the state, but it sure as hell feels that way. Especially since the number one business in my county is agriculture, which basically means no one is rich enough to pay for this shit.
I'm about ready to start riding a horse to work. There's only one minor detail. On Saturdays, I have to drive over a 6300 foot pass. I couldn't ask one horse to take me over it not once, but twice in one day. Plus it's a pretty steep grade on both sides, the horse would probably keel over by the time we got to the top.
One of my co-workers, my Saturday tech, is trying to move over to our valley, which means, she and I could car-pool on Saturdays. Which would be awesome.
For my three days at the Sticksville clinic, technically I could walk there, but I have a feeling that if people don't see my car there, they won't really see the "open" signs. Because by now, most people recognize my car, so if they see it there, they know we're open. If not . . . well . . .you know. And if I rode a horse to the Sticksville clinic, it would eat the flowers. Which I'm trying not to kill, thankyouverymuch.
The problem is, Americans are use to and love cheap gas. We've been spoiled. When I got my license at 16, gas was 99cents per gallon. And I know gas was way cheaper than that when my parents were kids and when my grandparents were kids. I mean, could you imagine having a coronary over gas rising to 10cents a gallon from 5cents??? Yeah, me neither.
And I know that places like the Bay Area (San Francisco) or SoCal (LA, San Diego) have probably already hit or surpassed the $5/gallon mark. I'm not jealous by any means. But I do feel their pain.
But, even though we Americans love to drive across our vast nation, take our RV out on weekends, our boats to the lake, we curb that summer traveling enthusiasm a bit when it costs you your mortgage just to take the kids to Yellowstone. We do adapt to these horrific changes. We're bitching about it the entire time, but don't miss out on the fact that we will make changes.
I can honestly say, I never thought I'd think $3/gallon was cheap. But it's looking damn good now.