I pulled into a South Carolina gas station on manic Monday morning ready to fill up—again. Seems like it was déjà vu all over—again. Because, in fact, it was.
I’ve been jumping through hoops on this gas-gigging, dog-and-pony routine on a weekly basis all summer. It’s sweltering outside, after all, and my car has been thirsty.
Besides, I have the kind of reporting job that requires me to rove around Brunswick County—one of the largest in North Carolina.