Just a few days ago on Christmas Eve I was running a couple of quick family errands. As I approached Exit 5 on Route 3 the car shuddered and sputtered. I know the sound and I know the feeling and a quick glance at the fuel gage confirmed my worst fears. The needle was several degrees below E.

I have a reputation for pushing the envelope when it comes to mileage between refills and as I coasted to a stop on the off-bound ramp I recalled what my wife said to me the last time I ran out of gas, ‘You know Dennis, the ‘E’ doesn’t stand for ‘Enough” – you are supposed to get gas when you get down to a ¼ tank.’

I called home on my cell phone and stood behind the car and waited. And felt foolish. It is one thing to have bad luck – it is quite another when your luck deficit is entirely your own fault.

I will say one thing; Christmas Eve brings out the best in people. At least a baker’s dozen Good Samaritans stopped to inquire or offer assistance. I thanked them all and told them help was on the way.

I had plenty of time to think. The words of my grandfather came to mind. He used to tell me that the secret of a ‘good life’ was finding comfort and joy in whatever you were doing, even if you didn’t like it. If you’ve got to shovel manure, you might as well appreciate the smell and enjoy it. Advice that is a bit easier to give than it is to follow.

As I leaned against the trunk of my car I occupied myself with compiling a list of everyone and everything I was thankful for. Of course my family made the top of the list along with a few close friends.

As time wore on the list began to evolve into a memory walk through my life. I remembered times of great peace and tranquility like the night as a young child I snuggled under my bedcovers in perfect warmth and security as I watched snow falling outside my bedroom window. The flakes were huge as they sparkled, drifted and danced under a street light.

I remember watching the shadows of snow flakes play along the walls of my bedroom. That night was nearly 55 years ago and the memory is still as fresh in my mind as yesterday’s breakfast. Why and how that memory stuck with me through the years while so many others have slipped away is a mystery.

As sunset approached I watched the clouds change hues through a pastel spectrum until color vanished into evening gray I remembered another time color was important.

I was about seven years old and I love Nestle’s Quick chocolate milk. I was fascinated by the box of powdered chocolate mix – especially to milky brown of the glass of milk pictured on the box. Try as I might I could never get my glass of milk to match the illustration.

One morning as I sat at the breakfast table I was determined to get my glass of milk to mirror the one on the box. I added spoonful after spoonful to my milk. Mixed, stirred and compared my glass to the one on the box. Not quite “chocolate” enough. I added more and more until the milk reached saturation point and the mix refused to dissolve and instead settled to the bottom of the glass in a brown drift.

I learned two important lessons that morning. The first is, don’t believe everything you see – pictures sometimes tell lies. The second thing I learned it that there is such a thing as “too much chocolate” – it was gawd awful and I didn’t know whether to drink it or pour it on my pancakes.

 Watching traffic stream by I was thankful it wasn’t raining or snowing and at least my jacket kept the winter cold at bay.

About the time a chill finally worked its way through my coat I saw a set of headlights pull into the breakdown lane and a familiar beep-beep as my daughter arrived with a can of gas. And a friendly lecture on the importance of checking the fuel gage.

I was glad to see Samantha and thanked her for coming to my rescue. Oddly enough, I was also thankful for the few moments of enforced meditation and reflection.