Remember when you were just beginning to drive the "old man's car?" You must have been between the ages of 18 and 25 years old. On a Saturday night you couldn't wait to get behind the wheel, have a few friends jump in the rear seats and take off to the dance or to other unknown destinations.

The next morning (Sunday) your father got in the car while you were still sleeping and screamed loudly, "You left me a car with no gas in the tank! It's on empty." Somehow in all the Saturday night fun, petroleum was the last thing on your mind.

Having a full tank is a must for some people. They get edgy when the gauge registers half-full. Rather than argue with these conservative types, it is wiser to pull into a gas station and "top off" the gas supply.

Let me relate an interesting tale that occurred to me a month ago: For some reason I was picking up my son's car in Manhattan and driving it out to Jericho. I spent a pleasant day in the city with my grandchild and my son went out to get the car.

When he arrived in his jet black Saab, I was dumbstruck. The car was freckled with white bird-droppings from the front windshield to the back bumper. It was comical. It was also just below the dignity factor of an "over 60 and getting younger" person. After 10 minutes of cleaning the front and back windshields with Windex, the car was ready to roll. As Lorraine and I took off in the spotted car, I noticed something else. The yellow light on the gas gauge was on and the gas tank was near empty.

Lorraine said we would never get back to Jericho on the meager supply of fuel. Since Manhattan has very few gas stations, I said I would refill in Queens. While driving over the 59th Street Bridge, we both were a bit nervous. It was about 1 a.m. and luckily we found an open station.

The gas tank was on the opposite side of the driver. I finally got the car into position to accept gasoline, but I could not open the latch to place the hose. Everybody in the station was snickering at my auto, but nobody knew how to open a Saab gas tank. One person suggested ripping off the latch. I vetoed his suggestion. The crowd grew larger and everyone was having a good time laughing, except Lorraine and I.

I was pushing buttons all over the dashboard, but nothing seemed to open that latch. Finally, I pushed a button on the ignition key chain and voila, the latch sprang open. I put in $20 (which doesn't get you as much gas as it did in the old days) and set off for Jericho.

The next morning I took the bird-encrusted Saab to the car wash. They had to run it through twice before they deemed it clean. I took photos of the wash, before and after. It was hilarious!

My son told me I could have made it to Jericho on empty. "There are three gallons left after the light goes on." I am not adventurous and Lorraine is not happy with empty tanks.

I think back to my runaround days and I remember my father's reaction when I gave him an empty gas tank.

Like they say, "Everything that goes around comes around."