Spin Diesel

Alright, alright, I'm going to tell you a tale for your own benefit, AT MY EXPENSE.

A long time ago, like, last night, I grabbed my dad's Jeep keys, my bag of writing material and my dana, and headed out the door. "Hey, fill up the car, ok? It's going to snow tonight, and it needs to be filled." I nodded, and made my escape whilst the One in Penguing Pajamas was looking the other way. I donned my ski-cap and rushed outside and into the Jeep. I wish these seats were heated, I thought.
At the light, I had to make my decision: fill up the car now, or after Starbucks? Dad had said something about having to go the opposite direction from Starbucks to the gas station, so I sat for a moment, and when the light changed, I turned left. I was, for once, going to do the "chore" before the fun. As I approach the gas station, I saw there were two--one was a Shell, and lit up nice and bright in the frigid air. That was the one we always seemed to go to. The other one was smaller and had a nice dinosaur on the sign, so I took a quick turn and pulled in there, thinking it'd be nice to give them some business. I swiped the credit card, unscrewed the cap, and noticed it was green. It said, "Diesel only." Ahah, I thought, I have to select the right button. There on the panel was a red, a green, and a black button. The green one! I pushed it, shoved the handle-thingy into the gas tube and squeezed. I pushed the little lever to keep it pressurized so I could go back into the car, where it was warmer, but instead I decided to jump up and down like all the other Denver-gas-fillers. As I did so, I glanced at the gas pump and read the green square. UNLEADED.
I jumped a bit higher, cursed at myself, and frantically pushed all sorts of buttons, trying to cancel the flow of fuel. Then I remembered all I had to do was unsqueeze the handle. When I got the fuel stopped, my stomach sank. 2.42 gallons of unleaded in a diesel car. What do I do now! I thought I was surely screwed.
So I did what I always do--I called my husband. He laughed, then said he had no idea how to fix it, but "don't turn on the engine!" I swallowed and felt like I was sixteen again. I called my dad.
"Um, what happens when someone puts gasoline in a diesel car?" He blew the roof, understandably. Within fifteen minutes, he was at the gas station, helping me move the car (Without turning it on!). "Why did you go to this gas station? We never go to this one! It doesn't even have diesel!"
He was mostly mad because it was freezing outside.
We tried siphoning the gas out, but the Jeep has an anti-siphon mechanism (isn't that helpful?). After shivering more than I wanted to bear, we left the Jeep there and went home.
I ate freezing humble pie, and did not write at all.

It snowed last night.

Dad called and said I was "incredibly lucky" because the Jeeps people said all we have to do is fill it up with diesel and flush out the gas. I didn't put enough in to cause any damage. Phew!

Now, if you ever happen to drive a diesel car or truck, go to the bright and shiny gas station and find the green pump with the GREEN HANDLE. And whatever you do, don't just go by color coding. READ THE SIGNS. ;-)