ENGELHARD’S Guide to writing… for a world gone berserk
By Jack Engelhard
Yes, I went ahead and inflated my tires and – well, this is terrific news! – it works! After buying gas on Monday, at four dollars a gallon, I did not have to buy gas again until Tuesday, and all that because I followed Barack Obama’s instructions – inflate, baby, inflate. I left the car in the driveway and took the train instead so maybe that’s the reason for the savings, but those are just details.
I tried some of the other methods that have been proposed in lieu of drilling – you know, “we can’t drill our way out of this” (why not?) – but have been less successful. I opened the gas cap and aimed the gas tank toward the sun, you know, for some of that solar energy, but nothing happened. My car wouldn’t run, wouldn’t even start. (I did get a nice tan, though.)
I had to get fueled up the old fashioned way, with gas. I will try this again, though, the sun, to fall in step with our legislators who insist that I quit guzzling.
They want me – a good American – to find “alternatives.” So this is what I’m doing.
I will admit this: Harry, who runs the service station up the street, and who knows my car as part of his family, I’m there so often, thinks I’m nuts. Heeding the legislators, among them Barack Obama, I pulled up and asked Harry to fill er up with some of that new geothermal fuel, regular, and he did not know what I was talking about.
He said, “I only sell gas.” Well, then, how about some wind? “I don’t sell wind,” he said. “Only gas.”
I figured that Joe, the mechanic, would be more up to date. He was under some car full of grease and oil. I said, “Joe, where’s the plug?”
“What plug?” he said getting up.
“You know, for my Chevy.”
“I know your Chevy. Your Chevy has no plug. Why do you want a plug?”
“I need to hook it up to the hydroelectric pump.”
Joe stared at me. I guess he didn’t know that Congress was pushing through legislation about hydroelectric cars. Maybe I was too soon, but I figured with all those scientists advising these legislators, including the would-be president – I figured I’d get a head start on all these “alternatives” or “flex fuels.” I’d show America the way. I’ll do anything but drill and harm the caribou.
“We ain’t got no hydroelectric pumps. We only got gas. You know — gas!”
Joe had always been sensible and patient with all my car problems but this time around he seemed tense. I must have caught him at a bad time.
“What about up the street?”
“No gas station has hydroelectric. Not in this neighborhood.”
I figured I’d been getting bad information. I’d been hearing, mostly on TV and in the newspapers, that all this was already in the works.
Just say “fill er up with electric,” plug it in and off you go.
“What about geothermal and biomass.”
I got all that from a reliable politician on TV.
“Nobody around here,” Joe said, getting back under the car he’d been working on. “I can’t even repeat what you just said.”
“Can I feed corn into the car?”
“For fuel?”
“I’m told that’s what’s happening.”
“Not in this town. Corn?”
I explained that everybody is using corn instead of gas, or rather using corn to make gas – but apparently not in this town. We sure are behind the times.
“We only got gas,” Joe said stepping back up and showing me his greasy, oily hands. “Does this look like corn?”
“Okay,” I said. “Forget corn. How about soybeans?”
“You want to fuel up your car with soybeans?”
“The government says I can, yes, soybeans.”
“I don’t know nothing about soybeans, but I’m just a mechanic. I guess the government knows more about cars. Meantime, all we got is gas.”
“The government,” I said, “wants us to run on wind and hot air.”
“There’s plenty of that,” said Joe.
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