Do Not Run Out of Gas on Moore Road in Placer County
The one place you do not want to run out of gas is on Moore Road as it changes from Placer County to Sutter County, let me tell you. I came home late the night before because I had an early evening appointment in Fair Oaks to list a home, followed by a stop at the Sacramento Board of Realtors Masters Club Mixer, held at an enormous 7,500 square-foot home for sale in Carmichael. I didn’t want to make my husband hold dinner any longer than 7:30, so I didn’t stop at the gas station on my way home, figuring I’d do it on my way out in the morning.
Except you know how that goes, and I did not think about it as I headed out to Roseville the following morning. Nope, I was thinking about the home in Sun City, which list in the Bay Area I might market to and how the seller was doing that filling up my gas tank did not cross my mind. Not until I was on my way back, and I drove past my turnoff on Baseline because I was yakking on my cellphone with a seller from Midtown who is ready to buy in Roseville. She could not believe that yes, one of my team members would be delighted to show her homes in Roseville.
I drove into no-cellphone-coverage territory and my call dropped on Moore Road. It’s a two-lane road with a ditch on each side, so if you run out of gas, you have no choice but to leave your vehicle on the road where somebody else is likely to smash into it. Lovely thought. Assuming the swooping planes overhead don’t crash into you first. Looked like several single-engine planes, bright yellow, were crop-dusting except they were flying very low and sideways over fields of water.
When I asked SIRI for directions to the nearest gas station, she could not access the Internet. The gas tank on my car read: consider remaining mileage. So polite, those Italians. Yes, let me ponder the remaining mileage before I panic. SIRI then suddenly found a signal and led me 8 miles out of my way to a closed gas station on West Riego Road. I’m beginning not to like SIRI anymore. I am cursing SIRI under my breath, but hey, lookie here, I am about to get on 99 and head south: SIRI where is the closest gas station?
Del Paso Road in Natomas, but she didn’t specify which way to turn. 50 / 50, I chose east. Sure enough, SIRI demanded a U-Turn. I am now muttering some not very nice things about SIRI as I notice, hey, a gas station. A Chevon station. Right there on my right, with a whole bunch of pumps . . . and every single one of them is busy. Wait, one opened up. I zipped in. Whew. Except my gas tank is on the other side of the car, which means the pump hose is not long enough to reach my tank. I press my body into my car for leverage and pull. An inch short.
I had no choice but to lay the hose on the ground, try not to run over it as I repositioned my vehicle in the tight space available between the hose and the car behind me. Please, nobody light a match.
Those at the gas station were undoubtedly witnessing this fiasco and wondering what in the world I was doing. But it’s OK. See, I’m in real estate and that kind of stuff is allowed. At least, that’s what I tell myself every time something like this happens. To be fair, I have yet to run out of gas, but yesterday came pretty darn close to it.