Texas Tea party

A few of the Butterbeans took a road trip this past weekend. We put gas in our car and headed south for a few days. South has a lot to recommend it, most notably its temperature. But right now gasoline has only one thing to recommend it. It makes your car run.

On road trips—well all of the time­—Father Butterbean is preoccupied with the price of gasoline. I don’t think he notices the scenery or the wildlife or the stores or the speed limit signs, but he focuses on all of the station marquees and compares their advertised prices.

“That station back there a ways had gas for $3.19. This one has it for $3.29. It jumped ten cents in just a couple of blocks. And back there in the last town, I saw it for $3.05. Remember that.
We’ll stop there on the way home and fill up.”

“I can’t remember the price at the one we just passed, let alone the one in the last town,” I complain. “And quit driving all over this town looking for the cheapest gas. It’s okay if we have to pay three cents a gallon more.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the principle of the thing. If I go to the most expensive station, they will think they can get away with those prices all the time.”

Mr. B. judges stations by their gas prices—not by anything else. Don’t ever tell him, but I occasionally go to the station that is the closest, whether its price is less or not. Of course, sometimes I am in danger of running out of gas if I go to the station across town. At times like that, I will pay seventy cents extra for my tank of gas if it will save me a walk in the cold. In fact

I would be willing to pay a lot more than that.

This conversation took place during our road trip:

“Dad, will you pull over at a station? I need to use the bathroom.” Now you know how kids are, even big ones, they will need to go to the bathroom within half an hour of the last fill up, which was the case this time.

“Dad, don’t forget I need a bathroom. There’s a station just ahead.”

“We can’t go to that station; their gas costs $3.27.

“We can’t use their bathroom because their gas costs $3.27? It’s okay Dad. They don’t charge for their toilet paper.”

What really aggravates him is triumphantly saving five cents on gasoline and then going inside to find he has to pay more for his potato chips and drinks.

“These chips cost $3.19. That’s a gallon of gas. What good does it do to save on gas if I have to spend it all on treats?”

“Dad, this is a convenience store.”

“Those chips are $1.29 at the grocery store. Let’s go over there.” Notice that you didn’t hear him say that he didn’t need any chips then.

“Dad, it’s three miles away. That would make it an inconvenience store. Besides it will cost that much in gas to get there.”

“Here, Dad. Here’s some milk to go with your cookies.”
“I don’t want to buy a small one. It costs $1.69. You can get a whole gallon for less than twice that."

“Dad, do you want to drink out of a gallon jug while you’re driving?”

Mr. B. not only worries about the price at the pump, but like most men, he frets over his gas mileage as well. He has been calling out the mpg score every ten miles, as well as when we go up hills and down, in the city and in the country.

“I could get better gas mileage,” he remarks while eyeing the CD case I brought, “if we didn’t have to carry all of those CD’s around.”

Looks like in the interest of hauling less weight in the future, I am going to have to choose between my music and my potato chips.