I'm delighted to welcome author, and blogging friend Carol Kilgore. Carol has written Solomon's Compass, and In Name Only. Thanks for sharing this guest post with us today Carol.
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A WRITER
A few weeks ago, I noticed the fuel gauge in the car was on EMPTY. I was pretty sure there was a station about a mile to my left.
I was wrong. It was a Sonic. Tots and a slush? Not a good idea.
But I did know where a station was for
sure. At the highway – one block down and a mile or two over. I don’t have
enough words for the full story, but it includes a dump truck, approaching
traffic, and a long hill. You see the picture.
A hundred words later, I pulled to a pump
with fumes to spare.
I grabbed my debit card and keys and locked
the door, did the card thing and lifted the nozzle, but I couldn’t open the gas
tank. So I thought there must be a release button on the dash.
I hung up the nozzle and searched. No button. Nothing on the door or the side of the seat.
On the other side of the pump, a man was filling
his truck. “Excuse me,” I said. “I can’t get my gas tank open. Can you help me?”
He tried to open it. Tried to find a button. No success. I didn't feel quite so stupid, even though it was my car. As we rounded the back of the car … I remembered.
When we bought the car, the salesman went
over the details. To open the gas tank lid, you press on the left. It popped
open!
You’d think that would be enough for one
morning. Not quite.
The transaction must have canceled when I hung up the nozzle, and this time the screen asked for my zip code. Numbers and I don’t always get along, and we've lived in umpteen jillion zip codes. With our current zip, I often transpose a couple of the numbers. But it let me pump gas, so all was good.
I was back at the Sonic intersection, and contemplating a slush, when my phone rang.
Husband said, “The bank just called. They want to know if you used your card at someplace called Big Red’s Number Two, if you have your card, or if you’re under duress.”
“I did just use it. The gauge was on empty.”
“That’s what I forgot to do!”
I could picture the expression on his face, and smiled.
I have to digress. Husband is Coast Guard. Semper Paratus … Always Ready. Well, Husband is always ready for a lot of things … but as Always Ready pertains to vehicles, ours are always road ready.
Whatever makes a car work always works or is quickly repaired. Tires are always safe. Fuel gauges rarely dip below the halfway point.
As life would have it, Mr. Always Ready married the woman who can no longer recall how many times she’s run out of gas, had flat tires, dead batteries, and more. Left to my own devices, fuel and maintenance barely make my list, much less work their way to the top. Until: I. Need. Gas. NOW!
So, back to the story. I told Husband where I filled up and that I had no idea the name of the place. “And I used it twice at the same pump. I couldn't get the gas tank open the first time.”
“What?”
“So I asked the guy pumping gas next to me, and he couldn't figure it out either.”
"What do you mean you couldn't get the tank open?”
"So I finally remembered the salesman showing us, and then I had to use my card twice. I’m sure that’s what triggered the alert. Or maybe I put in the wrong zip.”
“How could you not know how to open the gas tank? We've had this car two years.”
“I've never put gas in it before.”
So he starts to laugh. “Let me get this straight. You have people who do that for you.”
“Yep. I love my people.”
“Wait. What did you say about the zip code..."
Carol Kilgore is an award-winning author with several short
stories, essays, and articles to her credit. Her two novels, Solomon’s Compass and In
Name Only, are a blend of mystery, suspense, and romance she calls Crime Fiction with a Kiss. Carol and her
Coast Guard husband live in San Antonio, Texas, with two herding dogs whose
mission is to keep them safe from all danger, real or imagined.
You can find Carol and her books here:
