Last night I went into town to hang with dad. We had dinner and then went to the Thursday night fights. I've never been into boxing but I must say it was super fun aside from the chick they pay to carry the round number and shake her thing wearing nothing but a bikini. We sat "ringside", right at one of the corners where the boxers climb in and out. Despite my fears we weren't sprayed with blood although at one point we almost had one boxer fall into our laps while he was getting the snot beat out of him against the ropes. I ran into one of my real-estate agents and an old friend I used to work with in Anchorage. My dad sat to my right and the Great Alaska Shootout's announcer just happened to be sitting on my left, between those two I was completely filled in on just about everything you need to know about boxing. What a show. I would still never watch it on TV but I found it kinda fun watching it in person. I had so much fun and look forward to the next time we go.
So the fight was finished at 10:30pm. I drove dad home and checked my gas gauge on the way, it said I had just under 3/4's tank. It was a little strange because an earlier check had said I had a little less gas but I just figured maybe I checked it after a hill and the reader was probably still "floating". Since I burn a quarter tank when I'm racing between Anchorage and the Valley, I knew I was fine and didn't need to get gas. I drove back home and didn't speed because its pitch black and I can't see cops ahead at night - so I should have burned even less than a quarter tank. I was a little over 6 miles from home when I ran out of gas. It was midnight when I stopped rolling. I was alone on a dark night, on a back road with my scared little non-protecting dog. I called a friend who had to work at 5am because I had nobody else to call out here, he came and rescued me. I'm so thankful to him and so glad he actually answered the phone. When the truck rolled to a stop it said the tank was just about empty, but I was on a hill so that probably played into it reading higher than it should. The whole way home to get a gas jug, the whole way to the gas station and the whole way back I was in disbelief that I actually ran out of gas also feeling awful for getting this guy out of bed in the middle of the night over my carelessness. I am the kind of person who always keeps at least a half tank in case something ever happens, I don't know how I could have ran out of gas. I just couldn't stop thinking "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!" My brain was on instant replay I was bugging so much. When we got back to the truck we put the 4 gallons into the truck and she fired right up. Since it was 1am at this point I was way to tired to go back into town to fill up so I headed home. On the way home I looked down at my gas gauge and low and behold it says I have 3/4 of a tank with only 4 gallons in its belly! It read this level the whole 5 miles home. I'm so relieved that the gauge reader is broken and not my stinkin brain. M is calling the dealer today and it shall be fixed soon. Things could have gone a lot worse, I'm so thankful God helped me through it.