I forgot about the old saying that I just made up: Don’t speak too loudly of your good luck when bad luck might be listening.
The other day I mentioned how I was driving and heard a whining sound in the Grand Am that I recognized as the electric fuel pump. It only makes the noise when it is trying to pump gasoline and there is only air. It means, you’ll be walking in a matter of minutes.
I bragged about my great fortune and how I squeezed enough mileage out of the remaining air and fuel mix to make it to a gas station pump nozzle, whereupon the car died on the spot. Oh, how I bragged.
Bad luck was listening in.
Sunday, I was checking out the last vestiges of the South Tulsa Borders bookstore, and heard the whining sound in the parking lot. Truth to tell, I couldn’t concentrate much on the books and fixtures that were being closed out. I kept thinking about how little fuel was in the car’s gas tank.
I asked the clerk where the nearest QuikTrip was located, and he assured me they were easily found in any direction. Unfortunately, I didn’t even make it to the street. The dratted electrical gas gauge indicated a half-tank remained, but honestly, it said completely empty about ten minutes earlier. I never know what to believe.
Bad luck had been listening.
I trudged to QuikTrip. A little over a mile, uphill – no kidding. You know how Yale is in that area. When I finally dragged myself into the store’s air conditioned interior and asked about a gas can, I discovered I had walked in the wrong direction. This QT was completely out of gas cans. You never know when a run on those things will happen.
By this time, I was hobbling on my bad knee. Telephone calls were made, gas cans were transported. The gasoline was for a two-stroke lawnmower engine, and it didn’t work. Another trip – by car – the gas can, and another gallon of clean, fresh, expensive gasoline, and the Grand Am was on its way again. Air conditioning and all.
I consider the fact the air was working to be a stroke of good luck. But I’m not saying it too loudly.