Warning Signs

It was just the week before last that I found myself needing to get to a gas station, quickly. The Beast, as we call the SUV, was running on fumes. (I like to live on the edge.) I pulled up to a pump. Per instruction, I inserted and quickly removed my debit card, removed the nozzle, punched the octane button of choice, and started filling the tank. In the time it took to pump $40 worth of gas, I only got about halfway through reading the safety warnings posted next to the electronic price display and the annoying little television that you can’t see in natural light.

And I’m a fast reader. After all, I graduated from the Evelyn Wood Speed Reading course that my parents made me take because they thought I was spending too much time reading.

Apparently, gas stations are fiercely dangerous places, something which I hadn’t ever thought much about.

I’ve always assumed that if you turn off the engine of your vehicle, get rid of the cigarette, and remember to remove the nozzle before you drive off, you’ll be fine.

Tip of the iceberg, folks, tip of the iceberg.

I went back a few days ago to finish reading about gas station safety and etiquette.

Smoking and leaving the engine running top the list of don’ts, followed by advice about a “Hold-Open Latch,” whatever in the hell that might be. It also warned to keep small children tethered to an interior car seat and away from the pumps.

Gas station people seem terribly afraid of static electricity buildup, which, apparently, can cause a fire and an explosion that would rival any of those created on the back lots of Hollywood. The likelihood of this static buildup is at its peak if you’re wearing a wool sweater and vigorously rub the sleeves together before picking up the nozzle.

There’s a bunch of guidelines about filling gas cans, too, many of which also concern static electricity.

Health threats abound at your average Chevron station. They warn about skin contact, inhaling the fumes (which kills lab rats, but then so does Mountain Dew), rubbing it into your eyes, washing your hair, or drinking down a few slugs because you’re thirsty and are prohibited from leaving the pump to run inside and get a Diet Coke, which may not kill rats but will remove rust from any number of your rusty things.

Finally, there’s a reminder that gasoline is for use as a motor fuel only. Without actually saying so, they are discouraging the use of their products to make Molotov cocktails or other incendiary devices.

I have a friend in Los Angeles whose brother, whom I’ve never met, was a technical writer. Technical writers have a special skill set for writing in exacting and boring prose. They repeat themselves with abandon, stressing important points that nobody reads. Ray’s brother spent his entire career writing safety manuals for Sears. Apparently, Sears marketed and sold a good many products that were dangerous, and the consumer needed constant reminders to be vigilant in their safe use.

Most product user manuals begin with the caveat not to even make eye contact with whatever it is you just bought until you’ve read the manual in its entirety—in both English and Spanish.

Typically that’s when I toss the manual aside and cast my fate to the wind.

We bought an electric lawnmower at the beginning of summer. I put it together without looking at the instructions (although I had watched the YouTube video during the six days between ordering and delivery). After mowing a few laps around the backyard, I poured a Scotch and started reading the manual which warned me about that “making eye contact” thing.

It said not to operate the mower if you’ve been consuming alcohol. I can live with that. I looked at my glass and said, “Thank you,” knowing now that I was done doing anything useful for the day. As a cautionary reminder, the manual advised that the mower should be plugged in properly. Since most outlets only allow one way to do this, it seemed a bit redundant. Then it said to not run over the power cord, although it didn’t specify why one shouldn’t do that. I have a few ideas of my own regarding this caveat.

It said to always have your utility service disconnected before messing around with the collection bag. The same is true if, for reasons that escape me, you feel compelled to reach under the mower where the big rotating blade lives.

It cautioned not to operate the machine in the rain, which led me to wonder if there are people who will actually mow the lawn during a rainstorm.

Perhaps it is because we live in such a litigious society that every conceivable protection from liability must be taken by manufacturers, wholesalers, and retailers. At some point, you might think that there should perhaps be some sense of taking responsibility for one’s own actions.

If you think about it, does the person who licks the beaters of an eggbeater while it’s running will have been bright enough to have read a manual that said you shouldn’t do that?

I recently saw a FB posting of a picture of what was the obvious end of a sidewalk. There was a sign saying, “Sidewalk Ends.”

Stating the obvious has become so normal that it glides by without much attention.

We’ve endured a lot of tragedy over the past several months—some personal, but all shared together with empathy and sorrow. And not to be disrespectful, but when the television news anchors introduce a story about the death toll rising, do they not realize that the death toll can’t go down?

The rate or incidence of death can be measured that way, but not the actual numbers.

Let’s not fail to mention “untimely deaths,” frequently seen in newspapers and heard over the airwaves. Aren’t all deaths untimely? Are there those who would suggest that Uncle Paul’s death was timely?

“About time he died. He’s been sucking in oxygen others could make better use of.”

And how can one not note the frequent observation that “an autopsy was performed to determine the cause of death”? Is there another reason to perform an autopsy?

My computer is getting a little long in the tooth and it frequently stalls. An annoying yellow ribbon appears above whatever it is you call the thing below it. It announces that a browser is slowing things down and what would I like the yellow ribbon to do: Stop It; or Wait. If I tap on Stop It, I still have to Wait. This is just wrong.

And since there is no logical ending to this essay, let me close with two wonderful signs I’ve seen that perfectly illustrate the obvious.

One was announcing that the “Christmas Sale Ends December 25—After Christmas Sale Starts December 26.” The other I saw in New York City some fifty years ago: “Ears pierced while you wait.”

Photo illustration by Courtney A. Liska

Stracotto alla Fiorentina

Stracotto means “overcooked.” This is an Italian pot roast that was one of the most popular dishes I offered on cold winter nights at my restaurant, Adagio. Winter is on its way.

1 cup red onions, chopped
1 cup carrots, chopped
1 cup celery, chopped
½ cup parsley, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
Extra-virgin olive oil
4# chuck roast
1 oz. dried porcini mushrooms, hydrated in water
4 cups crimini mushrooms
1 bottle Chianti
4 cups tomatoes
2 cups chicken stock

Saute vegetables & garlic in the oil for 6-7 minutes. Remove. Season the meat with salt & pepper and brown very well. Transfer to casserole pan. Put vegetables back in the pan and add some wine, scraping the pan. Add porcini, reserving the water, and cook for a few minutes. Add wine & tomatoes and simmer. Add mushrooms, stock and porcini liquid. Pour over the meat and roast for 2 hours.