I thought "one armed bandits" were slot machines. Yes, I've rejoined that elite group of people known as "motorists." My goodness there is a lot to do to restore to life an older van that has been quiescent for almost three years, outside, and exposed to the "Four Gentle Seasons" of this area.
It couldn't be put off for long: I had to drive up to a gasoline pump and rejoin American culture. For a few seconds I just stared at the pump and thought "Do I really want to do this?" Finally, resigned to shame and defeat, I had to ask, "Let's see here, what do I do first? How does this work again?"
And so I squeezed for the sacred fluid. The numbers exploded in front of my eyes. But in a couple seconds I could hear and smell the sacred fluid splashing onto the parking lot. During our Four Gentle Seasons the rubber filler hose, that feeds the gasoline tank, had developed a large crack. So I managed to consume only $3 of gasoline on my inaugural attempt. Somehow I don't think I'll ever be that lucky again.
It couldn't be put off for long: I had to drive up to a gasoline pump and rejoin American culture. For a few seconds I just stared at the pump and thought "Do I really want to do this?" Finally, resigned to shame and defeat, I had to ask, "Let's see here, what do I do first? How does this work again?"
An image came to mind from the well-written and acted movie, "The Mirror Has Two Faces," starring Barbra Streisand, Jeff Bridges, and Lauren Bacall. The Streisand character was a literature professor at Columbia, with a great sense of humor, and no love life with her frumpy looks. She went through an "ugly duckling" experience toward the end of the movie, lost weight, discovered makeup, etc.And so was I, now, just like the average motorhead. If you look at the gasoline pump as a form of sacred sculpture, it almost resembles the megalithic human figures on Easter Island, except that it's smaller. Perhaps there's even some overlap in the cultural significance. There is a block-like torso and head. The black hose resembles the arm of a human figure. The nozzle has a thumb and an extended fore-finger. (Maybe it's a middle finger.)
Her always-glamorous sister told her, "I still can't get used to seeing you like this. It's sort of unnerving. Now you're just like the rest of us..." (That is, a high-maintenance slave of the mirror.)
And so I squeezed for the sacred fluid. The numbers exploded in front of my eyes. But in a couple seconds I could hear and smell the sacred fluid splashing onto the parking lot. During our Four Gentle Seasons the rubber filler hose, that feeds the gasoline tank, had developed a large crack. So I managed to consume only $3 of gasoline on my inaugural attempt. Somehow I don't think I'll ever be that lucky again.
Comments
Wandrin, it's too late for that career path. The "Twilight Zone" hasn't been on the air for years.