Published: July 13, 2008 12:34 am            

Coping with four-dollar gasoline

A trip to the gas pump has never been fun, but now it is downright painful. When gas prices hit the one dollar mark in the 1980’s it was an outrage. When the price hit two dollars, the outcry would make one think the world was coming to an end. Even though we griped loud and hard, we didn’t do anything to change our enormous appetite for gasoline. Then the price hit three dollars – and we hardly said a word.

Now we have to pay four dollars for a gallon of gasoline, and that has made all the difference. Four-dollar gasoline has demanded our attention. Four-dollar gasoline has changed our driving habits. Four dollar gasoline has finally become our line in the sand.

For the week of July Fourth – traditionally the busiest traffic weekend of the year - gasoline sales were down nearly four per cent nationally. This was the first drop in demand for gasoline for the July Fourth weekend in 10 years, and it represents a national drop in demand of about 200,000 barrels of gasoline per day.

To deal with the high price of gasoline, more Americans are riding scooters and motorcycles. We tend to stereotype motorcyclists as tough men with tattoos and leather boots, but today the average motorcyclist is pretty… average. This also means there are more women --“Motorcycle Mommas”-- out there than ever before… and I am proud to be one of them.

My husband, Ken, owned a motorcycle in the younger years of his life. A couple of years ago, in a desperate attempt to reclaim his youth, he bought a well-maintained Kawasaki Vulcan 800 Cruiser from his older and (then) wiser brother.

I, on the other hand, did not know how to drive a motorcycle but have ridden on the back of a bike quite a few times. Therefore, I was in full support of the new toy. I always thought it would be great to hop on a motorcycle and take off by myself. There is just something appealing about the breeze blowing in your face as you take off on a powerful motorcycle.

After watching Ken have fun for a few months, I decided it was time for me to try out the powerful bike. I practiced driving around the block a few times, then off I went for a short ride. Since then, I have become very comfortable on the bike and really enjoy riding by myself.

Though I had mastered the independence of the motorcycle, it was nearly a year later until I tried to take another person for a ride with me. Common sense dictated that it would not be wise to use my children as guinea pigs, though, so Ken was to be my first passenger.

One Saturday, Ken and I headed to the courts to practice some tennis. When it came time to leave, I hopped on the seat, revved her up and Ken reluctantly climbed on the back. It didn’t take long to realize that there is a big difference in riding solo and starting out with a grown man on the back. After popping the clutch and searing a third degree burn behind my right knee all while fighting to keep the big bike upright, I eventually caught on to the adjustment of riding two on the bike and we finally made it home alive.

Still, that was not my most memorable motorcycle adventure. Just before we moved to Meridian, I rode the motorcycle to the gym for my morning workout. Before I left the house, I remember thinking that it was probably time for a visit to the gas pump. I shook the bike and heard some liquid rattle around in the tank, so off I drove at 5 in the morning, assuming that all was well.

Jump to 6:10 that same morning. I was heading back home and, suddenly, I felt the bike begin to sputter and the engine died. I coasted to the side of the road and sat there for a moment, trying to decide what my next move would be. I was still a couple of miles away from the house, nearly all of the residents were still asleep, I didn’t have any money, and I left my cell phone at home.

On a whim, I tried to re-start the bike. It cranked and I took off. A few blocks later, I was stranded on the side of the road once again and, this time, I had used every drop of gas that I thought could possibly be in the tank. Thank goodness I happened to be at a traffic light where people could see my plight.

Before long, a nice man hesitantly rolled down his window and asked if I needed help. I told him my situation and that I was broke and phone-less, so he gave me 50¢ so I could use a nearby pay phone.

In this day of cell phones, I never use pay phones anymore. I dropped a quarter and a dime in the phone and dialed my home phone number, praying Ken would answer. Instead, I heard an operator request that I place an additional 15¢ into the pay phone. I guess I am out of touch because I would have sworn it cost only 35¢ to make a local call.

After getting the change right, Ken promptly answered the phone and listened to my dilemma. He then informed me that there was a reserve tank on the bike and all I had to do was turn the knob. I felt like an idiot for not thinking about a reserve tank option. I jogged back to the bike and was once again “easy riding.”

With more people riding scooters and motorcycles, the moral of this story is: never hop on a motorcycle without two quarters or a cell phone. And to the very nice man in Laurel who gave me the 50¢, thank you very much for having pity on a sweaty, helmet-headed motorcycle momma!



Crystal Dupré is publisher at The Meridian Star. E-mail her at

cdupre@themeridianstar.com.

        

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