Tonight my dashboard emitted the shrill signal that says I was running on empty and I had to sidle up to a pump, and pronto.

Fortunately, across from where I ate dinner there is a discount station that sells Union 76 gas, which I suppose is of fairly high quality because the company is so big.

Before pulling in, I noticed a disheveled hobo was leaning against the posts that under gird the big 76 sign. Every now and then he sneered or shouted at passing traffic and ogled the customers that stopped for gas.