Just a little bit longer

So I’m turning onto Joseph Howe drive and get a red light on that little hill just before you’re really on Joseph Howe. I feel a slight hesitation in the car when the light turns green and I hit the gas. 

It’s a ’95 Camry, hesitations happen. However, in this case the hesitation was due mostly in part to my hesitation to put gas in the car before heading home from Dartmouth. The gage has been lower than that before, I figure I’m probably pushing it but take my chances. 
This is happening at that awkward time of day known to many as “dusk”. It’s light enough that you can still see but dark enough that the lights at the gas station are off, leading me (in my fit of hesitation) to believe that the station is in fact closed. During rush hour. On a main thoroughfare. 
I don’t get me either. 
Anywho, the reason I’m on this road is to pick up my mother from work. I continue past not one, but two gas stations on the way down the road, but there are no more hesitations so I quickly put my worries away and continued. 
I picked mom up at the pre-appointed location. I left the parking lot not thinking about those earlier hesitations, but instead of the sushi I was going to buy at Sobeys (so good). 
You’re all bright people, I know you know what’s next. The engine hesitates as we head over a slight embankment. Then instead of hesitating, the engine does more of a sputter. Not just any sputter… more like a bi-polar moment of “hey, I’m running, we can do this” to “um, I’m just gonna take a little break here, but you keep pressing that pedal! I may come back!”
Meanwhile, my co-pilot is becoming increasingly agitated, informing me of the various consequences of my inaction because I was obviously unaware that not filling the car when the light comes on may lead to the situation at hand. 
We made it through two lights (that stayed green) and I turned into the parking lot of the closest gas station. Not a moment too soon, as the engine completely cut out on my approach and I had to coast to the only open pump. 
I’m no Sully, but I think I did a pretty good job. Unfortunately my problems were not due to a flock of Canadian geese, but my desire to make every tank streach to the last drop. The situation probably could have been avoided, but I and my 14 year old car came out of it none the worse for wear. 
And then I blogged about it.

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