Gas prices on March 9 along Tramway Boulevard between Lomas and San Bernardino.
Monday’s chores were medium-heavy and I didn’t get a chance to ride until late afternoon.
It was going to have to be a short one, and I was thinking I should just go for a run instead.
But it was a gorgeous day — 77°! — and the forecast for today was looking a little less favorable. So I kitted up, grabbed the Rivendell Sam Hillborne, and set off for a brief inspection tour of gas prices at four stations along Tramway.
As you know, “the roaring economy is roaring like never before,” and though I’ve seen no signs of this at the grocery or anywhere else, The Pestilence says it is so and thus I must be mistaken. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I rarely drive, gassing up the ol’ rice rocket about once every three months or so. And lately I’ve quit collecting receipts because the pumps’ printers are usually on the fritz and damme if I’m stumbling into the kiosk to stand in line with the proles waiting to pay for their Slim Jims, malt-liquor 40s, and coffin nails, whatever they haven’t already shoplifted.
But I’m pretty sure that the last time I filled up — before we decided to bomb Iran into democracy — the price per gallon for regular was $2.83. And yesterday it was as you see above.
Winning? Your mileage may vary, as the fella says.
This may become a regular feature here at Ye Olde Dogge House. Feel free to chime in with the gas prices in your neck of “the roaring economy.” In the meantime, I have a year’s worth of grocery receipts to examine. I suspect that if there is any roaring to be heard as a consequence, it will be coming from me.
• Addendum: The Associated Press has a national roundup. Whoo, check them L.A. prices! I love L.A.!
Mad Blog Media 
You may recall I got paid to do that for a while at the ol’ Gazumph Tefeloon, during a previous dustup with the Ayatollahs, in which gas prices were the biggest winners. I’d set out on my two-wheeled Honda into a gorgeous afternoon and motor north, south, east and west for a few hours of on-the-clock wasting of time – not to mention gasoline – just to return with the predictable news: Gas prices are UP, folks!
It never gets old.
Ah, those Fabulous Seventies, back when we were Men, instead of whatever it is that we are now.
I rarely think about gas prices, since I’m only an occasional driver — I haven’t left Bernalillo County on four wheels since last August, when we said adios to Jethro and Lucy in Alamosa.
Speaking of Jethro, he and I took a road trip to San Francisco during that 1979 oil crisis. Holy hell, your state was pricey even then. We crashed at my cousin’s place around 10th and Judah, left the Datsun parked, and walked or took buses everywhere.
Saw a big ol’ gal with a little guy on a leash and some of the Harvey Milk riots, too. Those shows were free of charge. Californy shore knows how to show a feller a good time.
We were at the post office at one of the malls yesterday to drop off a package to my sister in law. Inside the mall was this monsterous Nissan Armada on display.
Yep, high gas prices. Wonder what it will cost to fill up that monstrosity if gas hits four or five bucks a gallon.
Like you, we don’t drive much, and the Corolla really squeezes the miles out of a gallon. Two weeks ago gas was $2.89 a gallon in Sierra Vista. On Sunday it was $3.65 a gallon.
I love me a little war. Bomb Iran? Put a hola in the ayatollah? Sure, as long as I don’t have to pay for it. Well, chump, it’s costing your grandchildren $1 Billion a day, a little more or less.
The numbers are staggering, aren’t they? Butter don’t stand a chance when guns are in the house.
Maybe butter needs some guns.
I thought that if we won, the war would be free? Isn’t that the Trump doctrine?
I thought the ROI was a Nobel Peace Prize. But I don’t know nothin’ about bidness.
That’s OK mi amigo, the dumpster doesn’t know about bidness either. But he really goes wild with other people’s money, especially taxpayers, their kids, the grand kids, and on and on.
Got any ideas for my No Kings signs? Trump Is Putin’s Chump, perhaps?
It would be a tad humorous if the newly chosen leader of Iran, the one actually chosen by the current clergy leadership good or bad, has done their homework and already had a talented artisan whip up a flashy Persian Peace medal to anoint the glorious (glower-ous) imbecile.