Are you squemish about blood? You are? Ok...I'll save that story for next time.
I have to say that I'm the type of guy that will let my car run on fumes before I go to the gas station. The gas station is just a waste of my time and so the fewer times I have to go there; the better. Oh, and I have one of those cars that when the dummy light goes off that means: "Do not pass Go, go directly to a gas station!"
When I bought this damn SUV I didn't want a V8 motor. I wasn't planning on towing the house behind me to go camping. It's more fun trying to pack the contents of the house inside for 48 hours and then unpack them again. But I didn't opt against the car because at the time, gas was less than $2 per gallon. Who knew?
I'm also fortunate to be in one of the only two states in the nation that don't allow you to pump your own gas. I like that. Some people get all incensed like their freedom is being yanked from them. Get a grip and move to Montana! Sheesh. They obviously don't live in Portland where it rains 2000 days a year. So while the idiots in Washington just north of us have to get out in the cold and rain and figure out how to operate the damn pump, I'm snuggly in my car letting some halfway-house employee do the job for me.
I mean really, look at the idiots that have pressed the stickers instead of the actual buttons on this photo of a gas pump with instructions! I'll admit, on occasion I've been forced to pump my own gas because I would have had to push the car over the border back to Oregon to avoid it; and there have been times when that was just as tempting.
So go out there in your dress ups and shower your hand with gasoline as you go to your big night out. I'll be listening to tunes and letting somebody else bath in fuel instead.