black chevrolet

I swerved into the left lane and bumped up over the entrance ramp in the gloom. The Shell station didn't look much different than it did at night, though it was seven in the morning and I was still in that state of rough drowse that precedes waking. A gray day, a possibly wet day...

I rolled down onto the floodlit pump pad and sat there until I finally got the transmission wiggled into neutral. gah. wet. I found my debit card and slid it into the slot on the wall of shining red and white plastic that was the pump face.

"Hi, it's good to see you!" oh shut up "Welcome to Shell!"

I removed my card.

"Hey, it's good to see you!" PLEASE! "Welcome to Shell! You can start saving immediately with every purchase you make on the Shell Card! Apply Now!" Yes, yes, I feel welcome. It's that little "hey" at the beginning of the second greeting, otherwise identical to the first. I feel special. I, a valued customer, have a special weakness for CREDIT CARDS at SEVEN IN THE MOTHERFREAKING MORNING!

The voice was echoing from the 14" TV screen mounted above the pump face, up and out of my peripheral view. The unnaturally synthesized voice cackled on through the floodlights. "And today! In Hollywood, the Bionic Woman discusses her thoughts on what it's like to be...the Bionic Woman..."

I can't wait to get out of here. The tank bubbles full, and a drip of fuel evaporates on the edge of the filler hole as I jerk the pump handle out of the tank and jam it back into its slot. I close the cap, flick the switch back on, hit the starter button and rev the v-twin to drown the artificial voice. Just another day in the middle of another week in the middle of another month in the clean, peaceful city of Moorpark in the Republic of California...where the skies are blue every day (except today), every child has Kellogg's for breakfast and every mom has a clean minivan...