Today, I confirmed that I have more than a few blond hairs growing from my head. I think I may even have an over abundance.
I pulled into the Circle K gas station down the road after work. I lined up just right with the nozzle and turned off my car. After quickly examining the pump, I slid my debit card through the machine and followed the directions listed on the screen. I hit the start button of my choice gasoline and pumped my car full of gas.
PREMIUM gas. Into my little, black Saturn Ion that only loves to guzzle unleaded gasoline. It was not until I looked at the price and gawked at spending $30 to fill the tank that I realized my hand was replacing the nozzle into the premium slot. Now, my little Ion would be forced to choke down premium. And to what expense?!
Now, for those graced with common sense in this world, this would not be a problem. Your wonderful, mid-sized sedans would gobble up the delicious, high-grade gasoline without their owners freaking the eff out in the middle of the parking lot. But me, I sat in my car not sure whether or not my car was going to explode if I turned the key in the ignition. So, being the reasonably fearful human being, I sat there, pulled out my cellphone, and called my father the mechanic.
Upon receiving one of the service writers on the line, I asked to speak with my dad. The service writer returned a few minutes later to tell me my dad, my mechanical savior, was unavailable and would I like to leave a message. Would I like to leave a message?! No, sir, I am about to discover whether or not my entire existence is about to explode under the canopy of a Circle K and I need ANSWERS. RIGHT. NOW.
In a pleasant voice, I explained that I was the daughter of the person he looked for and that I am an idiot. (Yes, folks, I admit my faults.) The service writer quietly laughed as I continued to explain that I just filled my car with twelve gallons of premium gas and would like to know whether or not I should expect to die if I attempted to turn the key. He laughed louder after this and proceeded to assure me that I would be okay and the Ion would not explode if I drove away, at least not from the premium gasoline. I thanked him for his kindness and hung up as he continued to laugh at my complete and utter stupidity.
It turns out, for those of you that are as blatantly idiotic as me, premium gasoline will actually make your unleaded, regular gas drinking car drive better! Who knew such fantasies could be realized without explosions of unnatural proportions!