I filled up the Jeep over the weekend. That's when I saw the gas had fallen below 3 bucks a gallon. I started to scream and jump up and down like I had just won Lotto.
"Thanks be praised, thanks be praised to the Sir, Mr. Gas God. Yesss Sir. Thanks Sir Gas God."
I feel that my feelings were shared by my surrounding gas station disciples. I could tell because the hoots were deafening. As I pumped my Manna from heaven I realized that I may be suffering from a small case of Stockholm syndrome. The state of mind in which "the hostage" shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger in which they have been placed. But still, I'll take it.