Something happened this morning that I’ve been successfully avoiding for almost two years: I went to a gas station. Yes, a regular, old-school, fuel-pumping gas station. Why? Because I had to take my wife’s car to drive our daughter to school — and she was nearly out of fuel. Not enough to get to work and back. Coincidentally, there’s a gas station on the school route. So I took her car. Brave. Naïve. Unprepared.
I pulled in like a time traveler from the future who made a wrong turn and ended up in 2005.
And then it hit me.
The smell.
That intoxicating mix of gasoline fumes, hot rubber, fried food from the mini-mart, and a hint of “I haven’t washed my hands since Monday.”
I had completely forgotten how unpleasant it is. And dirty. Every surface felt like it had been dipped in old motor oil. The pump handle? Slick and grimy. And of course, the auto-lock on the nozzle was broken, so I had to stand there gripping it like I was defusing a bomb, waiting for the tank to fill.
Plenty of time to reflect.
Because this… this is not how my EV life works.
At home, I just plug in at night. Like a phone. Or if I’m out: I park, plug in, sit in my car—quiet, clean, climate-controlled—sip a coffee, listen to music, maybe answer emails. No smell. No waiting in line. No nozzle. And when I’m done? Unplug and go. Payment? Automatic.
But yes, I hear it all the time:
“Filling up a gas tank is faster.”
Sure, if you ignore the detour to the station, waiting behind someone buying 12 scratch tickets, the awkward run to the cashier, and the post-pump hand-sanitizer marathon.
And let’s be honest:
If we were inventing mobility today, no one in their right mind would say: “I’ve got it! Let’s power everything with a highly flammable liquid that we dig up, ship across the world, refine, truck around, and store underground—just so everyone can carry their own mini explosion machine.”
Don’t get me wrong—EVs aren’t perfect. Public chargers could be more consistent. Long-distance trips sometimes need planning. But for everyday life? It’s a dream.
So yes, I fueled up. I paid. I washed my hands.
And I drove home, deeply grateful for my clean, quiet, electric car.
PS: I told my wife she should fuel up a bit earlier next time.
Or better yet: maybe it’s time we got her an EV, too.