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Growing
up poor, "fill 'er up" was something I only
heard on TV. The reality was always "$5
unleaded," or ten if Mom was feeling flush.
Gas was cheaper then, and most paid cash, so
round numbers were preferred, but still. I
started with a full tank today, filled up
three times at various wideflung but
essentially similar self-serve pumps,
grinding time and distance to dust, the
longest single leg of my journey back to
Seattle from Philadelphia. "The Great
American Roadtrip" is no fun when you're in
a rush due to delayed start, and I felt like
an ordinary asshole
just playing
my part in the global death cult.
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