The station was completely out of regular and plus, which is why these nozzles were laid on the ground like anaesthetized snakes. (So I’m mixing my metaphors; it’s early in the morning.)
Why?
"The truck should have been here an hour ago," said the attendant, shaking his head. "I don’t know where he is."
Upshot?
If you absolutely, positively needed gas then and there, you had to shell out for premium, the only grade at Eastern above $4 a gallon.
Gulp.
That wasn’t my gas tank, that was my Adam’s apple.
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