It is an informal get-together without a swearing in or a roll call, where fact and fiction are blended like an alternate fuel.  I’ve decided that the testimony should be marketed as FACTION.  There is no printed agenda, but cross examination is not only allowed—it is oft times shamelessly solicited.

On September 7th Joe confessed to a broadening of his accumulated learning.  He pulled into one of our local gasoline dispensers and as he inserted the nozzle he struck up a conversation with a stranger in an adjacent bay, but he also kept an eye on the pump for a tally of his arrival for a sum of a twenty dollar intake.  The subject the two belabored was the comparison of petrol in this present day and time past.

The passerby “pinged” his twenty dollar purchase to the penny, withdrew the hose, deposited the nozzle in the receptor and battened the hatch on his vehicle.  He seated himself in his vehicle and motored away.  The dexterity with which he managed to stop precisely on the twenty dollar mark inspired Joe to try and achieve the same results.

“Most of the time I overshoot my mark,” he admitted, “and I went two cents past again.  The lady who takes the money just smiled as I dug in my pocket for the two pennies.

“If you pay in advance and know your pump number they can stop the pump for you, Clarence advised.  “That’s what I learned to do.  That way you pay your money and when the pump stops you are free to go.”

“I appreciate that,” Joe admitted.  “It sounds like a good idea, and you only have to go into the store one time.”

“I had an embarrassing moment here awhile back when I drove off without paying,” Wayne took a sip of his coffee and admitted.  “They know me where I tank up and that fact saved me from having a police escort back to the scene of the crime!  They called my wife and told her what I’d done.”

“I don’t know when he’ll be back home,” my wife admitted, “but I’ll come down and pay you.”

“No you won’t,” she was advised.  “Wayne got the gasoline—so you just send him down to settle his debt when he does come home!”  Which she did, with a broad smile.  The punishment was justified by the flagrant faux pas.

The story brought a broad grin upon Bill’s countenance, and he was moved to confess a time when he was operating without engaging his undivided attention upon filling his tank.  A crony walked up as he inserted the nozzle, and those two worthies engaged in stimulating repartee for a few moments.

When the visit was completed Bill replaced the hose and nozzle to the approved location, noted the cash amount and went into the office and forked over his seventeen bucks.

Next day, to his chagrin, he noted that his vehicle registered only a quarter tank of petrol.  At that same moment, he managed to recall that he had neglected to activate the fill up mechanism on his stop yesterday.

“Did you go back and explain what happened?” DeWitt inquired with keen interest.

“Nope, it was too embarrassing.  I went to another station and filled up,” Bill said “and I got the job done without having to endure any kidding.”

At that junction I realized that I’d been bound for the grocery store to make an important purchase and I departed with due alacrity.  I was still chuckling at Bill’s tale when I parked at the grocery, went inside and discovered I’d forgotten my three item list.

I left empty handed and empty headed and drove home to ferret out my list.  It was not on the breakfast counter, but I discovered it in my back pocket.

Let me hear from you.

My phone number is 254-893-5063.

My postal address is 333 W. Ayers, De Leon TX 76444.

You can e-mail me at Charles@CharlesChupp.com.