Going Down
The economy blows, but can you blow off the economy? Unfortunately not. I'm looking for Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed behind the counter at the Bailey Savings & Loan, lending away their honeymoon, but Frank Capra isn't directing this film.
This morning I woke to MPR tellinng me the Asian markets had gone down ten percent while I slept. But those were just words coming at me over the airwaves as the coffee kicked in. What struck me with more force was a conversation, and an image, from the night before.
I'd been working late on a proposal, and was coming home past seven, hungry, tired, and with a near empty tank of gas. I had a nine a.m. meeting the next morning, but I resisted the temptation to go straight home and assume I could just get up early and stop for gas beforehand. That's the sort of thinking that makes me perpetually late for appointments. So I pulled into the Marathon station, where regular was a surprising $2.39 a gallon. I had trouble getting my card verified - the entry pad was oversensitive and kept doubling the numbers I entered for my zip code - but eventually we started guzzling. And the numbers began to roll. In a leisurely, almost antebellum fashion.
As I waited, I overheard the clerk on duty talking to a vendor whose truck was idling in the parking lot. The clerk was standing outside the door to the station, wearing a white shirt and polyester pants, a headband round some dirty blonde ringlets. In her hand was that long pole with the hook on the end that is used to change the gas prices. At the end of that pole was a 4. It looked like she had been fishing for lottery numbers. Or auditioning for a part on Sesame Street. Today is brought to you by the number 4...
"I've done this three times today," she said. They remarked on how remarkable this was, so soon after Staycation Summer. As recently as a month ago, gas was $3.47 a gallon. I wanted to put one of those theater hooks in her hand, and set her to work pulling down the Economic Experts.
Instead, somebody else pulled into the station, and ran over the cord that trips the bell.
Every time a bell rings, an angel checks the Dow.
Me, I go to twincitiesgasprices.com. At 5:24 this morning it was $2.24 a gallon in Roseville. I'll be curious to see what it is when you click.
This morning I woke to MPR tellinng me the Asian markets had gone down ten percent while I slept. But those were just words coming at me over the airwaves as the coffee kicked in. What struck me with more force was a conversation, and an image, from the night before.
I'd been working late on a proposal, and was coming home past seven, hungry, tired, and with a near empty tank of gas. I had a nine a.m. meeting the next morning, but I resisted the temptation to go straight home and assume I could just get up early and stop for gas beforehand. That's the sort of thinking that makes me perpetually late for appointments. So I pulled into the Marathon station, where regular was a surprising $2.39 a gallon. I had trouble getting my card verified - the entry pad was oversensitive and kept doubling the numbers I entered for my zip code - but eventually we started guzzling. And the numbers began to roll. In a leisurely, almost antebellum fashion.
As I waited, I overheard the clerk on duty talking to a vendor whose truck was idling in the parking lot. The clerk was standing outside the door to the station, wearing a white shirt and polyester pants, a headband round some dirty blonde ringlets. In her hand was that long pole with the hook on the end that is used to change the gas prices. At the end of that pole was a 4. It looked like she had been fishing for lottery numbers. Or auditioning for a part on Sesame Street. Today is brought to you by the number 4...
"I've done this three times today," she said. They remarked on how remarkable this was, so soon after Staycation Summer. As recently as a month ago, gas was $3.47 a gallon. I wanted to put one of those theater hooks in her hand, and set her to work pulling down the Economic Experts.
Instead, somebody else pulled into the station, and ran over the cord that trips the bell.
Every time a bell rings, an angel checks the Dow.
Me, I go to twincitiesgasprices.com. At 5:24 this morning it was $2.24 a gallon in Roseville. I'll be curious to see what it is when you click.