I filled up my CNG powered Ford pickup today. It cost me nine dollars. NINE DOLLARS! I went from having less than a quarter of a tank to a full tank for nine dollars. I still can’t believe it. CNG is 120 octane and my truck is tuned to burn it so it runs pretty darn good. I can get some good scratch out of the back tires if I wish. Not that I wish. I just bought it. It’s not a race car and I’m too old to think it’s cool to waste rubber so blatantly. Although I could if I wanted. I may, now that a full tank of fuel is costing less than meal at a restaurant. I may want to cruise town a little. I be rollin’ cleany. Rollin’, Rollin’, Rollin’, I be rollin’ cleany. My truck doesn’t pollute as much as a gasoline motor so I can feel good about myself. I drive a truck so no one will accuse me of being a tree hugging terrorist. Because of my clean burning vehicle the bullfrogs can sing my praises. They can sit in nice clean pond water and rejoice.
I’m still having trouble with that first part. Nine dollars is insane. I’ve been conditioned to pay a lot more for fuel over the last decade. It became normal to shell out the more lonely presidents for a full tank. I mean old honest Abe isn’t lonely, there’s lots of him floating around. Hamilton is only slightly lonely but he gets out some. Old Andy Jackson gets out ever so often and we don’t mind much. Andy needs the air. Old Benji however, he’s the most lonely and he needs to stay that way. I do not like letting Franklin out. He runs off faster than any of the presidents. He must have been a track star or something. His picture sure doesn’t look like it but he must have been blazing fast. Of course this would have been looked over due to his other traits. It’s completely understandable. They didn’t value athletic ability back then as we do now. Thanks to this new truck though, he better just grab a good seat somewhere way back in my wallet. He ain’t coming out for a good long while.
Because fuel is so cheap I feel like driving a little now. I may slick back my hair and take my best girl for a little cruise. My best girl is my wife. I felt the need to clarify that all of a sudden. My only girl I should say. Yes, if she’s reading this then “my best girl” was used to create a certain feeling for the nineteen fifties and was not a reference to me having more than one girl of which I do not. However, and so on, ahem, I feel a cruise down the middle of town on a Saturday night might be in order. I could pull up to other adults and have them roll their window down and ask them how much they payed for fuel. I could then rev up my truck and say ” want to race to the next filling station?” Their answer would most assuredly would be “hell no.” “I want to coast this thing home on a thimble full.” I could then peel out and play the sound track to Grease all through town. I’m rolling cleany. It’s a win win. I get to pull my boat and go fishing without having to pawn all my rods and reals to buy gas to get home and I’m saving the environment unless of course the fracking process goes awry and poisons things beyond repair. I choose not to think of that at this time. Right now the bullfrogs are singing and Benji is safe and snug in his cage.