Day One of Travel
Great weather. Car serviced weeks ago. Gas tank filled. Was feeling great as I headed out on the first leg of the trek to KCMO with an overnight stay planned in Nashville to rest up on the way. As the gas tank dwindled down to a quarter of a tank past Asheville, NC, and with Google Maps alerting me that construction delays were imminent on the many miles ahead of mountain interstate, I pulled over to fill up at a small town station. I was feeling very proactive about this decision - my first fuel stop of a 3 week trip. "Feeling cute, eh?" thought the mischievous universe, because as the tank reached "full" the automatic stopper failed on the pump and gasoline spewed all down the side of my car, the rear tire, and into an enormous puddle in which stood my newly purchased, extra thick soled walking/hiking shoes. Seven years. I have owned my car for seven years and this has never happened.
Immediately, while cursing (wouldn't you?), I sprang into action, grabbed two unopened water bottles from the pallet in the back seat and poured them over the side panel and tire. Then, I pulled around to a parking spot away from the pump and began pouring water over the soles of my shoes. Ugh. Luckily my socks and skin were not affected; however, as I made my way down I-40 the smell of gasoline fumes was OVERWHELMING. I rolled down the window for a bit. Then Google suggested another route to bypass the upcoming delays which would save 55 minutes. Yes, please. I took the exit, as the sky grew darker, but no rain just yet. Descending into the absolutely loveliest valley of green rolling hills, I rolled up the window. Nope. The fumes were not having that. Back down with the window.
The thing about a picturesque, slow moving drive through a Thomas Kinkade puzzle, with fresh country air hitting you in the face is that it gives you a moment to think more clearly (that and the high from the gas fumes was subsiding). I had rinsed off my shoes. Why is the smell inside still so strong? Then it dawned on me. When I entered the car at the pump to move the car to a parking space, I had stepped on the floor mat under the pedal and brakes before rinsing my shoes. There had to be gas all over it.
Sure enough, back on the interstate with light rain drops in my face at this point because that window was NOT going to be rolled up anytime soon (I'm not crying, you're crying), I finally reached a rest area to check. Yep. The mat reeked and so did my shoes. Still. Sigh. I removed the mat and tossed it in the bin. Changed into flip flops and put my sneakers in a sealed bag in the back of the car. So. Much. Better.
In the Nashville hotel 5 hours later, I scrubbed the shoe soles with the lemon sugar body wash provided by the Hilton. (Thank you, Paris.) Sniffing the soles afterward, I could still smell gasoline but not as strongly. So, I hung the shoes in front of the A/C wall unit to dry until morning. And y'all...I gave up on going into downtown Nashville that evening. I simply didn't have it in me. Blake Shelton will just have to wait until I'm feeling fresher - me and my shoes.
Fast forward to this morning, 36 hours later in a cozy Kansas City apartment, and the traces of gasoline odor are still present on the sneaker soles. But, those are my hiking shoes. They are comfortable. I have loved them and cleaned them and cared for them and by golly I am wearing them next week to hike in the 120 degree Utah desert of sand and rocks. Here's to hoping my feet don't burst into flames.