- I still remember that Sunday night in my foolish youth driving a Volkswagen on a 67-mile trip while low on gas.
- Desperate, I got off the interstate once or twice to poke around small towns trying to find what was in those days a rarity – a gas station open on a Sunday night.
- I don’t remember if I found an open station or if there were enough fumes in that little bug to successfully get me to my destination, but I made it. Whew!
