More Vehicle Adventures

One more trip in a rented U-Hall. This trip required only a cargo van. The vehicle must have been put together with a child's worn out construction set. My brother had one of those in our childhood and I envied with all of my heart. This cargo van may have been his last project before abandoning the construction set in favor of football and girls.
The suspension of this particular vehicle was not nearly as effective as that of the worst constructed Conestoga Wagon. Every pebble in the road threatened to send the van careening out of control. Sixty miles round trip I had to drive that thing and then return it with the fuel tank at least half full. The day was hot despite predictions of cool rain. I was tired and irritated when I pulled up to the Shell station. A woman appeared to be just finishing filling the tank of her subcompact car. However, she continued to sit in the driver's seat way past the point when the tank had to be full. She was sorting through papers. Twice she got out of her car to throw away papers. Each time she got out, I inched closer thinking surely she would replace the fuel nozzle, cap her tank and drive away.
Each time she got out of her vehicle we made eye contact. Perhaps she misread my expression. Perhaps she thought I was having the time of my life. Perhaps she thought that I wanted to spend way too many of my precious moments on this planet stuck in a U-Haul cargo van. Perhaps she had become mesmerized by the recorded video of a Shell guy welcoming each customer to the station.
"You know," I wanted to shout, "he's not real. He's not talking to you."
I tried to keep my face expressionless. I didn't want to inspire some sort of passive-aggressive episode during which she elected to crawl under her car and begin changing her oil.
Blessedly, she finally finished her day's filing and actually returned the nozzle, capped her tank, got in her car, and drove off.
I pulled my rattling, shaking cargo van to the pump dreaming of the Negra Modelo I would drink should I actually complete this adventure and return home. I cut off the flow of gasoline at twenty dollars and three cents hoping that I'd filled the tank to the half mark.
My vehicle luck is changing. With a tank exactly half full, I returned the U-Haul cargo van. I've been home a couple of hours. I can still feel the shaking, careening motion of that vehicle. I'm beginning to get it though. I'm no longer behind its wheel.