Running on Half Full

If my father had seen the needle on the gas gauge in my car plunge as far beneath zero as it could possibly go, he would be turning over in his grave. I was raised to always gas up once I noticed the needle approaching the halfway mark.

I have never been very good at following instructions, and I like to chalk up my refusal to top off the tank at the halfway point to a cheery optimism that defies an upbringing based upon negativity and an obsessive need to ward off impending doom. When I see the needle at the mid point I see a tank that is half full, not half empty. I see miles of happy travel ahead, plenty of time to enjoy the comfort of my seat warmers before I must turn off the ignition and freeze my ass off momentarily while I hook up to the pump. There just seems to be no up side to preparing for the worst.

Last night, as I sped up the tollway after work, I watched with a degree of fascination and dread as the needle alit at rock bottom, and the read-out on my dashboard informed me -- calmly, without flashing or beeping -- that I had zero miles worth of fuel remaining. Several minutes into "zero" -- interestingly, the indicator doesn't move into negative numbers, which is good, because I wondered if I would suddenly start going backwards at seventy miles per hour -- a sign at the side of the road informed me that the "oasis," where I could reward my own tank with an Auntie Anne's pretzel after gassing up the car, was two and three quarter miles away. My cheery optimism was yielding to panic; I had my doubts that fumes could get me that far. I hugged the right side of the road in case I stalled, screaming obscenities at the slow moving traffic ahead of me as the last thing I wanted to do was hit the brakes and lose momentum.

The good news is I made it. The bad news is Auntie Anne's was closed. Nevertheless, my trademark cheery optimism carried me through the disappointment, and, as usual, good fortune prevailed in the form of two almost full pints of my favorite Ben and Jerry's flavors in my freezer.

Lately I have fallen into the trap of my upbringing, forgetting to see the half full side of things. Last night's terrifying journey up the tollway has reminded me to stop the hand wringing and think positive. A month long bout with the flu has me running a bit on the empty side, resulting in a bit of self pity, but hey, the symptoms change every few days so I don't get bored. My bank account runs a bit on the empty side from time to time, but I'm fairly certain there are folks out there who are a lot worse off than I am. Last time I checked the mirror, I seemed pretty well nourished.

I learned some valuable lessons last night. Even when the gas tank is less than empty, it is full enough to carry me several more miles before I have to suffer through the highly unsatisfying and uncomfortably cold task of gassing up. As for the flu, I don't think there are any symptoms left, so there's nowhere to go but up. And the bank account? I'm sure I'll figure that out at some point. As long as I come home every day to Ben and Jerry in the freezer,  my tank runneth over.