My wife picked me up from work tonight and pointed out the gas gauge was fairly close to the bottom line of empty. I figured let's go for it, we should have enough to get through the Battery Tunnel and right off at Hamilton Avenue for gas.
So, of course, we run out of gas about halfway through the tunnel.
You ever stop your car inside a tunnel? Especially when one tube is closed, and the other is running one lane going each way?
Doing my husbandly duty, I got out of the car, she put the car in neutral (I drive a Charger, by the way), and I started pushing the damned thing through the tunnel on the uphill swing, all the while wishing I'd bought a Volkswagon.
After about two hundred feet I thought I was going to collapse, and luckily the guy behind us offered to push us the rest of the way. He was either being compassionate or tired of going three miles an hour. Or he had a premonition of me dropping dead in front of him, and his commute being completely destroyed. Either way, thank you, whoever you are.
Once out of the tunnel we were pulled to the side and hooked up to a tow truck, which dropped us on Hamilton Avenue right outside the tunnel. Once again, the wife put the car in neutral and I pushed it the remaining two hundred feet to the gas station, while another tow truck followed us, then looped around once we reached the gas station and gave me a final push to get up and over the curb.
Forty dollars of gas later and we were on our way.
All in all it was a hell of a cardio workout, but I don't recommend sucking in tunnel fumes. I think my lungs are seriously pissed off at me right now.
But, as I explained to my wife, this was one of those tests of your manhood. You really can't consider yourself a man's man until you've pushed a car to a gas station....and felt your legs turn to jelly when pushing uphill.
Man up? Mission accomplished!
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