Disappearing Acts

A month or two ago, I made a trip across the desert from Colorado to California. I took the scenic route on the little red roads on the map, channeling me through canyonlands and high altitude pine forests, under rich blue skies and puffy clouds. I played my music loudly, and rolled down the windows to let the wind charms inside my cab. it was blissful. i felt guided by spirits as the day moved towards evening.

Then I looked at the gas gauge.

I made it to Flagstaff, AZ before the needle dipped beneath the red zone, and my heart, once hopeful, now slowed its rhythm to relief. I got out of my truck and commenced the gas-getting ritual.

It's pretty much always the same routine: you know, take off the gas cap, put it in a reliable location, put in the nozzle, push a few buttons, pump the gas. maybe you clean the windshield (i do) or check the tire pressure. It's you and your automobile, and everything feels normal.

The pump clicked, and my tank was full. i put the nozzle back in its holster, and turned to put my gas cap on.

There was no gas cap.

I reflected on my routine: had i inadvertently made a change? I looked inside my truck: no cap. I looked on top of the pump: not there, either. I searched underneath my truck, and then in the trash, again in my truck, and then, i walked the entire perimeter of the gas station three times. No gas cap.

Somebody's got to be fucking with me.

I went into the convenience store adjacent to the gas lot. No one was there save the attendant, so, bewildered, I told her my story, with some strange hope that she'd tell me it happened there a lot, and that it wasn't about me.

She just stared at me like i was a crazy person. "Sorry," she said.

I went back to my car, and wondered if i could continue driving with my tank open. i saw visions of my truck engulfed in a fire ball, and the shadow of my crispy body still trapped behind the wheel. This was tragic.

I started to cry. "Universe!!" I yelled. "What are you trying to tell me??? Am i supposed to stay in flagstaff? Should I have never left colorado? am i taking my mobility for granted? WHAT!?@!"

I got no answer.

A full 15 minutes passed before i realized that, perhaps i could just let go of my perfect gas cap, the one that came with my truck, and perhaps I could go get another one.

a calm came over me. i drove up the road, about 200 yards, and there was a Checkers Auto Part Store. I walked in and immediately saw a wall full of gas caps. Two minutes of looking and $4.79 later, I was on the road again.

I still don't know why this happened to me, and why it all seemed so incredibly significant at the time. But I'm reminded that nothing is supposed to go the way I think it's supposed to go, and I need to be grateful for all the times that it does. I can't always expect an explanation. I just have to trust that there is a way (maybe not the way i first saw) through everything, and really, it will be okay.