By Carl Sampson
I knew it would happen sooner or later. I call it the Oregon gas problem.
It started with a phone call from our son in California.
“Do you know how to pump gas?” John asked. He had borrowed a friend’s car and was trying to put some gas in it.
“Well, I’ll walk you through it,” I said, my fatherly instincts kicking in. “Put the nozzle thingy into the whatchahoozer in the side of the car. Got it?”
“Yep,” the reply came back.
“Good. Now slide your debit card through the thingamabob on the pump,” I said. I knew I was using extremely technical terms but it was time he learned them.
“Now punch in your PIN,” I said. “And push the button for the grade of gas you need.”
“What a minute,” he said. “The little screen is spelling out something.
“It says, ‘See the attendant.’”
“That’ll work, too,” I said.
Later the same day another son, Mark, was traveling with friends and getting gas at a station in Washington state. They all got out of the car and were looking for instructions or some hint of how to pump the gas. The guy behind them in line got out of his car, which had Idaho license plates.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You guys are from Oregon.”
“Yes,” they acknowledged.
“(Deletable expletive),” he said. “I should have known better. Oregonians are clueless. Here, take the nozzle. Stick it in the side of the car.
“Now, give me your credit card,” he said and swiped it through the slot in the pump. “Push the the button for the cheapest gas. There.” In a few minutes, they were on their way, and the Idaho guy was getting his gas, wondering why Oregonians were so inept.
Later that day, the Californian posted on his Facebook page: “Oregonian problem: When you have to Google ‘How to pump your own gas’ because you’ve been coddled by the state you learned to drive in.”
He got 62 likes — all from Oregonians.
I mentioned this shortcoming in the education of our progeny to my wife.
“It seems like they ought to know how to buy gas outside Oregon and New Jersey, the only other state to require service station attendants,” I said. “Running a gas pump is rite of passage, like working in a fast-food restaurant.”
My wife was not fazed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I kind of like having someone pump gas for me. I remember when we lived in Alaska, and it was a pain.”
It was hard to argue with her logic. In Alaska, getting out of the car at 20 below zero and babysitting the gas pump was one of those experiences you wish you could avoid.
So here’s my monthly pitch: Oregon should have “training pumps” so residents can practice pumping their own gas before heading across the international border to Washington, Idaho or California.
That only makes sense. Am I right?
Carl Sampson is a freelance writer and editor.
He actually met someone who read one of his books the other day. It’s a small but elite group. The books are available on Kindle at Amazon.com.
