OK, so David Warner isn’t the only Creative Loafing staffer who doesn’t know how to read the warning signs.

Any right-minded person who had to drive my car this morning from the Tyrone Square Mall area of St. Pete to CL’s headquarters on the corner of Lemon and Howard in Tampa would have taken one look at the fuel gauge and thought, “Better gas up.”

Not me.

Not that it didn’t cross my mind. In fact, I kinda sorta (read: not at all seriously) considered adding a few gallons to the tank before deciding that I was already late enough for work and should just take my chances. Chances that I considered heavily stacked in my favor.

In my defense, my car and I have had an understanding (at least I thought we did) that a needle hovering precariously close to “E” isn’t as dire as it might seem (at least I thought it wasn’t). You see, I’ve owned my ’85 Mercury Marquis for over 11 years, and in that time, I like to think I’ve come to know her pretty well. And one of the things I’ve taken for granted is that her needle usually belies the truth about how much is left in the tank. One look at the fuel gauge and she’s nearly running on empty. Glance away, look back and voila, a comfortable breathing room has appeared.

This article appears in Apr 25 – May 1, 2007.