The Good Samaritan

I'm a dumbass. I dunno how many times I've seen a P250 owner say, "Dood, when that light comes on, you're coasting on fumes." I was about five miles from home, and just a couple from the exit where I saw cheap gas advertised on my way out.

I was doing about 65mph down BrileyParkway, when suddenly my speed dropped, then jumped, then dropped... uh-oh. Out. Of. Gas.

You can see from the cluster to the east of Scottsboro where I shut it down, and coasted to rest on the shoulder. I called my buddy in Madison, whose house I'd just left minutes before, and got his voicemail. I forgot that I had the Boost phone rigged to forward to Skype... d'oh! So, I walked towards the Ashland City exit, maybe a half-mile away.

Then I remembered: This is the middle of Bumfuck, Davidson County. :) Very underdeveloped... no gas stations near this exit.

I waved down a good ol' boy in a beat-up work truck, who was more than happy to cart me. He wouldn't even let me buy him gas or beer. He'd seen the P250, and saw me in my Star Trek uniform, and put two and two together. Our return trip went north up the southbound shoulder... hilarious! Dood said he does work for the DOT, and he's had a lot of practice. :)

So, next time this goofy two-part fuel tank thingie gets off "F," I'm fillin' it up.
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