Too low on fuel to shop around, I pulled into the closest gas station this morning and was greeted by $4.25/gallon premium. Some minutes later, I had my first $70 fillup.
Across the way, a guy in an aging long wheelbase pickup with a NASCAR decal pulled up. He got out, looked at the pump prices and slowly shook his head. We commiserated. After I announced my price breakthrough, he said, “I could only afford nine gallons.”
By his T-shirt, his return trip would take him home to Chicot County. There’ll be scant relief there — if he can make it in his guzzler on nine gallons.
What, really, are working people going to do? We apparently haven’t seen the top yet.