Sticker shock

There's nothing like a trip to the gas station to focus one's mind on the opportunities of transit, limited as they may be.

The return leg of yesterday's trip required a stop at the gas station.

The wife drives a 2006 Honda Civic hybrid that gets better than 37 miles to the gallon and sometimes nearly 50 mpg. Sitting in the garage while I ride the bus is a 1999 Dodge Caravan with a powerful six-cylinder engine. On its best days, back when it was new, I was happy to see 20 mpg, but most often it was less.

I took the van to the Watt/I-80 light rail station, and since it had less than a quarter tank of gas I decided to stop and get gas on the way home. I was so engrossed with an internal debate over Arco's 45-cent ATM charge that I almost missed the final total:

Fifty dollars. And some change.

Well, that puts some perspective on the 45-cent toll.

When I got home I discovered the wife had been filling up the Honda. Her tab was $32.51.

This morning, waiting for my regular bus, I watched my neighbors rush off, one to a car, speeding to their destinations. I looked left and followed the car until I was looking right. I then followed a car going the other way. Back and forth I watched the traffic. Back and forth I shook my head.

Not news

"Pump prices flirt with $3," screamed the top story on The Bee's Business section front page today.

It took a moment to sink in. But then it dawned on me:

I

don't

care.

In fact, the higher the price of gas, the more money I'm saving by leaving my car at home. (OK, that's a lot like the wife spending $200 on Macy's sales because she saved soooo much, but you can see what I mean.)

It felt liberating to realize that no longer would gasoline pump price fluctuations torment me.

As an added bonus this morning, I amused myself by executing a successful side trip to the market on my way to work. Back when I drove to work (and it seems so long ago), I hated to stop and shop and then get to work. All of that finding a parking space, starting and stopping, always seemed such a waste.

Today, I needed some paper towels and some fruit. On the bus ride I figured that if I made the early train, I could get off at 16th Street, walk back to Safeway on 19th and R and then get to work at 21st and Q about the same time I would have arrived if the bus had not been early at 65th Street station. And, sure enough, the bus arrived just as the train was pulling into the station and my little side trip worked to perfection.

Now if only work on a Friday could be as relaxing and successful.