Henry has been driving his ancient pick-up truck for several miles when he realizes that he just might be running low on gas.  Using a notepad, he usually keeps track of his miles driven since the gas gauge and odometer are both broken.

As he travels down the highway, he realizes that nearly every car and truck probably uses electric vehicle technology.  He hopes to find some gasoline at the next fueling stop.

Driving around a curve, he spots his destination ahead.  Waiting alongside the highway is a sparkling, new station.  He feels the pick-up beginning to gasp for more fuel.

He pulls up to the pumps, but they are not really fuel pumps.  Each terminal waits to recharge an electric vehicle.  Henry pulls off his cap, and begins scratching his head.  What is he to do?

Off to the side of the property sits an old trailer—probably older than Henry’s pick-up.  The door cracks open, and a crusty, old fella sticks his head out and waves Henry to come on over.

As Henry approaches the trailer, he hears the old man shouting, “Gas in the back.”

As they finish up their conversation, the old man reminds Henry, “Remember, no charge.  I need to drain this underground tank.”

Henry drives around to the back of the trailer.  Between the dilapidated home and a small lake, he discovers one lonely gas pump.  Missing its hose, a second pump stands like a ghost left from the good ol’ days.  Looking at the working pump, he thinks, “I wonder if it will even pump gas.”

He questions how old the gasoline might be, but he doesn’t have many options left.  His ideas seem about as dried up as his gas tank.

There’s a sign next to the pump, which states, “Fill up at your own risk.”

Henry begins pumping gas, but he plans to only add a few gallons.  Who knows how old this regular gas really is?

Finished!  He jumps back in the cab of the pick-up and starts it up.  The engine groans with a cough and a sputter.  The indicator lights on the dash all power up like the starting lights on a drag race’s Christmas tree.  They refuse to turn off.

Slowly, Henry drives away.  The engine sounds awful, but he doesn’t have much choice except to head down the road. 

As he returns to the highway, he sees a sign.  He grimaces and frowns. 

The sign reads, “Thanks for stopping by.”

Henry growls to himself, “Thanks for nothing!”

A few miles later, passing electric vehicles barely notice an abandoned and battered pick-up truck.  It’s taking a well-deserved nap in the back of an empty, peaceful field.