Strangely gratifying errand this morning–getting gas. I pulled up to the pump on my XtraCycle. The last time I bought petrol, I fastened the gallon container of gas to the cargo rack of my mountain bike using a bungee cord. It leaked on the trip back and I was quite upset at the amount of effort it took to scrub the gnarley smell out of my pannier.

This time, I was much better prepared. I fastened a five gallon bucket to the back of my longtail and placed the gallon container in it. Kept the operation much cleaner and I can scrub the bucket out later.

Did I feel smug when then Toyota Prius pulled up to the adjacent pump? Oh, I shouldn’t admit to such pride, I do own a Toyota van myself, still. I was rather amused at the surprised looks of the proprietors at my bicycle commuter getup when throwing down ten bucks for gas. I came back in for change and the man at the till immediately asked, “did it not work?” His manager immediately corrected him (he must be a new hire) by pointing out that I just didn’t buy all ten bucks of gas.

I know, petrol: bad. I still have a gas mower, and it’s much more effective on damp grass than an electric mower. Eventually, when little boys grow up and no longer enjoy frolicking on our lawn, we’ll prolly “go native.”