I was filling up my Honda CR-V this evening with gas at a local station. Three kids were in the car and my disabled father was in the front passenger seat.
I had noticed the silver Jetta on the other side of the pump was filling minus the driver. I’ve seen people stick gas caps in there to keep the fuel flowing, and normally I’ve paid no attention, but as the driver came out and got in his car, I had this growing feeling in the pit of my stomach that something wasn’t right.
He started the car and slammed on the gas.
In slow motion, I saw the fuel line stretch and pull until it came flying out of the gas tank. I felt the droplets of gas hit my skin as the nozzle swung taught and forceful in my direction.
I didn’t scream. I put my hand up to shield myself from the lash.
The hose was too short and the heavy metal missed me by inches.
As the moron got out of his car, he calmly walked up, put the hose back in its station and drove off, with a dismissive, “yeah, sorry.”
Anger then swelled as I realized that had the pump been on, I would have been sprayed far more than I was, it could have caused an explosion and my kids, my father and I would have been trapped in a fireball.
The gas station attendant yelled at the man as he drove off, asking me worriedly if I was okay.
If you’re life is so messed up and busy that you can’t remember you were pumping gas and that the hose is still attached, it’s really time to look at your life and start making adjustments.
Good God.
