This searching for cheap gas can easily become an obsession, especially in our current torn-from-naiveté world of the upward spiral. Lucy’s always had the tic, but now, I’m getting it worse, too. I left the house, this morn and took a minute before walking out the door checked prices like some people check the weather. It’s getting like that, is all I’m sayin…
So on a nearly bone-dry tank, I headed over to the reputed loss leader this shady BP station across town, and as I crested the hill—can it be true?— yes! $2.07 in a $2.24 market! As I pulled up, something wasn’t right. I thought there was a line, but it turned out there was an unmarked cruiser blocking the entrance. And scattered here and there, a half a dozen other cop cars. Nobody in sight. No other cars. Huh?
I couldn’t stand it.
I pulled in this back way and rolled up to the island. As I opened the door, a cop walked out and—with no condescension—said: “Sorry, they’re not open right now.” I’m thinkin’ What? Are they in trouble for selling gas too cheap? II called after him, “Um, so what’s going on?” I’m always reluctant to ask this of cops, for the chance that they’ll get pissy about it, but I couldn’t resist. He looked over his shoulder and tossed back: “There’s an investigation under way.” Damn, that’s all I got!”
But still, isn’t that weird?
Even weirder, I was bummed because I wasn’t going to score the cheap gas and as I pulled out, I looked across the way to this Citgo, tucked off the main road. $2.07!
So I filled ‘er up over there, where it was fairly bustling. I kept wanting to query my fellow gassers…. cheap-gas.com? cheap-gas.com.
Feels like a secret…