Out of Gas

Photo: Skitterphoto from Pexels

When I entered the convent in 1956, driving was still considered a man's job. Roman was our friendly, careful driver whose full-time job, five days a week, was to take sisters to their daily appointments. As years went by, after Roman retired, a sister became the local driver and sisters were allowed to take driver's training. When it came time for our yearly home visit, our parents would come and get us and bring us back. It was only during the time of Vatican II days, 1962–67, that sisters on mission could have a car. Even then, it was meant for business in town and trips to and from the monastery.

From 1964–69, when I was living and working at St. John's Cantius Parish in St. Cloud, our superior, Sister Delrey Kulzer, had the use of her brother Tony's second car once a month to do the necessary business in town. This particular day when Tony brought us the car, he said, "This is a very good car, except the gas gauge does not work but not to worry. You will find a gas tank in the trunk when you need it."

One day when S. Delrey and I were driving around town to places on our to-do list, driving down Third Street, I said, "Delrey, I keep stepping on the accelerator, but the car is coming to a stop."

She said, "Don't worry, there is a tank of gas in the trunk." Feeling confident, we got out, opened the trunk, took the can of gas, brought it up to the front and opened the hood, thinking that soon the problem would be solved. While S. Delrey helped hold up the hood, I had the tank of gas in my right hand, bending over and looking all around for an obvious place to pour it. "Gee, where do I put it?" I asked. I saw a knob that could be turned, but it did not say "Put gas here."

I had my license before entering the convent, but it was either one of my two brothers or dad that would fill the tank. I continued to look up and down, from side to side, but didn't see anywhere which looked like an opening. We closed the hood and looked in the trunk, closely checked the rounded corners, but nothing that looked like a gas opening. S. Delrey said, "Let's look inside the car down by the gas pedal, it would make sense to find it there." We did not see an opening for gas.

I waved to the next car to stop. The kind man asked, "Ladies, how can I help you?"

I answered, "Our car is out of gas and here is a tank of gas, but we do not know where to put it."

I gave him the tank of gas, he walked back to the rear fender on the driver's side, opened the lid and poured gas into it. Problem solved.

Smiling, he handed the tank back to me. As we graciously thanked him, I could tell by the look on his face that he had a good story to share with his friends for the rest of his life.

Margaret Mandernach, OSB

This story was written for Stories Like You've Never Heard Before..., a compilation of stories written by Sister Margaret Mandernach. It has been modified for this blog.