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Pictured here is the 1960 blue Volkswagen Beetle.
Pictured here is the 1960 blue Volkswagen Beetle.
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Breathes there a man with mind so dead that he doesn't realize that gas prices are astronomically high...the most we have endured in our lifetimes? An easy but wrong-headed explanation would be to place the blame on the Biden administration for our painful experience at the gas pump right now. The truth is that fuel prices have always been inextricably linked to the overall health of the world economy.
Several factors are to blame. The slow national recovery from the Covid pandemic, creeping inflation, and Russia's horrible attack on Ukraine. Their invasion has led the US and many of its allies to impose sanctions against Russia, which included a ban on Russian oil. In 2022, gas prices have soared to rates higher than seen in decades, and have impacted the economy of every developed nation in the world.
This has happened time and again in my lifetime. In the 1970's and early 80's there was a giant global recession. Unemployment here spiked from 5% to 9% in 1975, and peaked at 10.8% in 1982 during the Reagan presidency, the highest rate since the Great Depression of the 1930's.
American drivers went from paying $0.36 per gallon of gas at the pump in 1970 (the equivalent of $2.70 per gallon in today's dollars) to $1.19 per gallon in 1980 (equivalent to about $4.25 per gallon today.)
While gas prices have recently peaked at well over $4 a gallon, pause to remember the meteoric rise in prices after the Iraq War and the national recession which occurred during the George W. Bush presidency.
When Clinton was president in 1998, the average US gas price was $1.06. Fast forward to 2008 during the Bush administration, the average gas price was three times higher at $3.27/gallon. During that 10-year period, just like today, many factors were to blame, including the North American natural gas crisis, the start of the war in Afghanistan, 9/11 and the beginning of the Iraq War, the housing market crash of 2008 and the beginning of the “Great Recession.”
What's really frustrating these days is that even now that the pandemic restrictions and travel fears have abated somewhat, most folks still can't go anywhere because of the ridiculous prices of practically EVERYTHING! The average worker is now making a few more dollars per hour, but not enough to cover rising costs of food, fuel, building materials, housing ...well, you know the drill. As individual citizens, there isn't a blessed thing we can do to fix it.
I recently recalled having written an article in 2005 for our Journal of the Mississippi State Medical Association about my feeble attempt to reduce my personal 'gas pains' at the pump. I'd like to share it with you now.
I tooled into the clinic today on this already steamy August Thursday to find a patient at the back entrance laying in wait for me. This happens to small town doctors more mornings than we'd care to think about and can either be a bane or a blessing. Sometimes it is a patient who could not get past the receptionist for an appointment. Sometimes...it's someone who wants special treatment without the hassle (or cost) of an office visit. This morning it was a familiar patient in neatly pressed overalls bearing his wife's warm cheesy-chicken casserole, a big sack of homegrown tomatoes, and a yellow-meated watermelon fresh from his field. These “farmers bearing gifts” mornings have a tendency to start your day off with a smile.
“Well, Doc...what are you a doin' driving that pregnant roller skate to work? Does the Medicaid not pay you enough to buy gas?” asked Mr. P. winking broadly. “I didn't see yore red truck so I thought you was gettin' some beauty sleep this morning.”
Mr. P. was referring to the little blue Volkswagen Beetle that I had driven to the clinic each day since gas had hit two dollars and fifty cents a gallon a couple of weeks ago. I asked my husband to get the Beetle out of the barn and repair the carburetor, a task he had been putting off for months.
“Hello, Mr. P,” I played along, “No, that old guvmint is trying to starve us country doctors out. I shore am glad you brought us our dinner. Payday is not 'til tomorrow!”
Of course, he knew better, but was satisfied with my answer. I appreciated him and he appreciated me.
Truth be known, even though I do count myself among the ranks of 'poor country doctors,' I am quite some ways from actually being poor. Truly poor people are among those folks I am privileged to serve each day. Yes, I can still afford to buy gas for my 4 wheel drive '98 Dodge Durango, but somehow I guess I just wanted to make a statement of protest.
About 10 years ago an eccentric elderly patient gave me, as a gift of love and gratitude, his old 1960 VW Beetle. The car was not in running order and of course it had not been cranked in God only knows when. To give you an idea of its condition, the back floorboard was rusted completely through and he had jury-rigged several old plaid flannel shirts into makeshift seat covers tied over the rusty springs. My husband and I had restored the car from stem to stern with the welcome help of a J.C. Whitney Volkswagen parts catalogue.
It is a 20-mile round trip to my clinic and back each day.
My regular truck gets about 16 miles to the gallon, if I'm lucky. I like to tell folks that my little electric blue VW is “45 years old, and I drive it about 45 miles an hour and I get at least 45 miles to the gallon.” I filled the tank up the other day for a 10-dollar bill, and the gas hand has moved only infinitesmally since.
Two weeks and four gas price hikes ago, I filled my SUV up for 53 dollars. Can you relate?
My blue Bug has no air-conditioner and no CD player. It still has a 6-volt battery and doesn't even have a working radio. The four-on-the-floor shift is still a novelty to me and requires that I think constantly about the driving experience. But all in all, I think it is a fair trade. People pass me on the highway and look at me ponderously as I putter along. I wave real big and smile. I arrive at work with a windblown look, but along the way I have actually heard birds singing, startled dogs barking and finally and regretfully understood the words that go along with the 'whump-a-whump' of the boom boxes of our misguided youth. I have smelled the new mown hay in the fields, the sweet and welcome sweat of horses standing in a pasture near my office, and savored even the honest whang of distant but fresh cow patties. If you were lucky enough to be reared on a farm, you know these are far from unpleasant olfactory sensations.
In other words, when I arrive at my workplace, I am alive and I have shared in the experience not only of my journey into town, but of those patients who struggle to buy the gas to come and be doctored by me each day. I have a renewed appreciation and joy for this trip we call life and a fresh reminder that it's about much more than just the destination...a fair trade, indeed.
*From the book Una Voce, copyright 2011.
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