Bring the Purple

Just before my trip to Ontario, my husband and I bought a Jeep. We were touring about town looking for a lunch deal, and instead found a vehicle deal. Both of us have always wanted a Jeep and at one point both of us seriously considered buying one—but then I went to university instead and he bought a truck instead. When we realized that the Jeep would hold a car seat, we were hooked. My hubby talked the salesman down a few thousand dollars to a price we were willing to pay, and we drove home in a bright green Jeep.

The next day, I had to drive to the city to catch my plane. My husband helped me load up the Jeep and get Sunshine settled in her car seat. I hopped into the driver’s seat, waved to him, and turned the key. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. After a few more tries, we pushed the Jeep out of the driveway and borrowed our downstairs’ tenant’s keys to boost the Jeep with her car. While we were doing that, we also met the neighbour across the road, who came over with a battery booster and an offer of help. With the Jeep running, I hit the road.

Sunshine was asleep before we hit the edge of town. I played with the radio and cruise control and admired the fall colours. Somewhere about two hours down the highway, I began to suspect the gas gauge. It was sitting neatly on the F. I figured I’d fill up once I made it to the city.

When the cruise control kicked off and the Jeep slowed down, I knew exactly what had happened. Out of gas. I should have stopped at the small town I’d gone through forty minutes ago. Instead, I was stranded about twenty minutes short of the next town, and an hour from the city. I dug out my cell phone and called my brother to come rescue me. Then I called my hubby to tell him where we were. He got on the computer and found out that Jeeps have a known problem with the gas gauge.

While waiting for my brother, I took a walk down the road with Sunshine. As we came around the corner, we met another walker. She offered help, for her farm was just down the road. Borrowing my phone, she called her daughter and said, “There’s a lady here who’s out of gas. Can you tell dad to bring some purple?” However, “dad” was out in a field just down the road from where we were. The lady called his cell and he waved at us from across the field, then drove over. I called my brother to tell him to turn around, and in a few minutes the farmer was filling my tank with a jerry can of purple gas. He then had to boost my engine, as the four-way flashers had killed my battery again.

After that, I made it to the city, with a stop for gas and no further problems, grateful once again for friendly farmers who help stranded strangers.