June 28, 2016
I concede that a gas station review is as useful as those Proposition 65 plaques that litter California. Perhaps it’s helpful to know that your local DMV is carcinogenic, but you’re still gonna go in. So I am under no illusion regarding the efficacy of this review. If you need gas and you’re near this station, you’ll go in.
Instead let’s talk about gas prices. I will never understand why autosexuals (that’s you, car owners) are so obsessed with finding cheap gas.
The jaunt from Palm Springs to San Francisco in a, let’s say, Ford Fiesta is a 486 mile trip. It will take 8 hours at a reasonable clip. The Fiesta yields 37 miles per gallon which means yer day will soak up approximately 13.14 gallons of that sweet, sweet crude. At the current national average of $2.30 per gallon your estimated cost of fuel for that trip is $30.22. Stay with me here.
Now imagine having paid a “whopping” $2.90 per gallon for that fuel instead. (The current price in Palm Springs.) Now your total cost for fuel goes up to $38.13. A difference of $8. That’s an extra buck an hour.
Who gives a shit?
The thing is, autosexuals will lose their fucking minds for even smaller differences in gas prices. And they won’t shut up about it. My dad (and probably yours too) will vehemently recommend out-of-the-way gas stations to save a paltry dime per gallon.
Sure it adds up, but to what? What are we doing with our lives, people? Maybe saving a dollar per hour of highway driving? And that’s on a hypothetical 20% delta. For $8 you should chance getting shanked on Shattuck Ave? I say nay.
Gas is cheaper than water. Cure your addiction gas fiends: you were not born this way.