Conversation topics running out of
gas
Lori Borgman | Monday, December 29, 2008
I’m not saying our lives are dull or that middle-age
is anything less than scintillating, but it seems the husband and
I have entered a season of life where our main topic of conversation
is the price of gasoline.
For months now, we have dwelt on the rising cost
of crude, who the culprits are in these pump-side robberies and
the merits of drilling in ANWR. On the phone, in the car, or even
after dinner, we could discuss such matters for 10, 20, even 40
minutes at a time with only short breaks for coffee or another piece
of pie. Every marriage needs a common enemy, and gasoline was ours.
But now, with the price per barrel tumbling, lower
prices at the pump and a fill-up costing less than $50, I find myself
fretting that the marriage might be headed for the skids.
How can it be that one day you are perfectly content,
grumbling, commiserating and making miserly comments about the corner
gas station you have patronized for years, and -- just like that
-- the rug is pulled out from under you? With no warning, your situation
abruptly changes for the better and now you have to be what? Happy?
Satisfied? At peace with this serendipitous turn of events?
In a particularly dark moment, I considered the
possibility that we might have to return to Alan Greenspan as a
staple of discussion. For some reason, either the way the man would
wag his finger or his impeccably bad timing, there have been few
Federal Reserve chairmans easier to dislike.
Whenever the man stepped to a podium and peered
over the microphone from behind those extra large glasses to make
an interest rate announcement, I knew to set aside an evening for
a fireside chat with the husband on how Greenspan was ruining the
economy.
And now, there goes another perfectly good topic
of conversation. Since the economy is in shambles and there are
more culprits than fingers to point, the husband is only mildly
interested in the Federal Reserve and is, frankly, at loose ends.
It’s not like our conversations have gone completely flat; he still
gets excited at the mention of Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson.
Still, that doesn’t give us any relief from this
problem with the gasoline. We now find ourselves listless at the
pump. We fill the tank, easily getting a gallon for every two bucks
while our gusto for getting the man who has been sticking it to
us evaporates like the fumes from the nozzle.
There are no more conversations about the $80
fill up or clucking our tongues about an SUV two pumps over bleeding
$100 to get the kids to soccer. For months, all the candidates and
the media have been telling us how miserable and needy we are and
like good patriots we embraced the call to pessimism. Then a slice
of life improves and it nearly saps your will to live.
All is not lost. We recently passed a truck stop
on a short trip out of town with an unbelievably low price on gasoline
intending to fill up on the way back. On our return trip the next
day, the price per gallon was 17 cents higher.
“How could they do that?” we exclaim in unison.
“In 24 hours, it jumps 17 cents?”
It’s good to have something to talk about.
