The red light district - of the petrol gage community

Now back from University for Christmas I'm using the car I share with my brother a significant amount more.

An element of this usage is the petrol gage: the red light isn't new to me, as a far from wealthy student, we frequent quite a lot. 

There's the protocol meet and greet.

I'll say hi.

And, now and again, there'll will be a knowing goodbye. I say knowing because we know I'll be back, a bit like Arnold Schwarzenegger, on crystal meth.

I should also admit, that in this situation, my friend Rupert has prior offences in this area, which I probably should of learnt from - as was mentioned in the 'Scotland' blog.

Rupert also has the same car as me - I would say we are unlucky, although my car is gold, a bit like this one, so he would probably say it's just me who is unlucky.

Normally this is fine - I often casually hit up the petrol station soon after the primary colour blings up.

But today the red light came, and unfortunately never went.

This led to extreme stress.

The story goes: this morning as I got ready for work, I decided to borrow my dad's jacket in an effort to look suave, however right here was the key error.

I had not realised that during the removal of my wallet from one jacket, to the other, my debit card fell out. 

At the time I was happy as larry, but who knew what had just happened. 

This week I have been freelancing for a radio station, and today this meant driving to a far flung location in my home county. 

So to Frinton I went, which was fine - who would sneer at a little investigative trip to the seaside.

For much of the time my petrol was above 1/4, which was a great rarity, but as I carried on my journey, suddenly, out of nowhere, I touched upon my old friend on the petrol bar, red light.

No problem, I thought.

But oh, as I reached into my shoddy wallet, the problem was quickly realised.

This was not a short drive to my village shop, this was quite an epic road trip around Essex.

My card a long lost traveller, and I, a tramp with a car.

Had my money outlet been stolen, or perhaps I'd dropped it buying my exotic wrap at lunch. 

But hence, either way I had no money to pay for petrol - a nightmare sprung to mind. 

At this point I said several unkind things to myself. 

I thought about ringing my brother, who was working in London, and then, my friends, who are all still at university.

Wonderful.

So, after making it back to work safely, I then had to get home.

I began at 30 mph for a long period of time, sometimes venturing to a cautious 50 on the dual carriageway. Later I ventured back down to 30 mph as I neared the home straight. Very cautious you may think, but I live in a place where there are many trees. It's rural.

But, I made it. 

My car stumbled into the parking space, making a weird clunking noise. I think there are now strained relations between me and my colourful petrol gage.

Tomorrow I shall challenge my car to the nearest petrol station, which, is not that near. 

Who knows if I'll make it.