In which I am becoming my mother

My parents came into town one summer to visit, and we took my mother to Park City for a bike ride. I felt sort of bad for my mom, because we rented her a cruiser bike, and my husband and I were on our road bikes. It was a warm day, and we had a long, beautiful, but exhausting bike ride.

Mom and me posing on our bikes

On the way back, we stopped by to fill up on gas. I put the nozzle in the car and was waiting for it to fill when my husband jumped out the passenger side.

"Hey, you want get something to eat? I'm starved."

"Sure, fine," I agreed, knowing that my mom would probably give us grief for whatever we chose to buy.

We went into the store, bought a few snacks, and then hopped back into the car to go. I was driving off when a woman walking in front of my car stopped and stared at me, horrified, with her hands over her mouth. Puzzled, I looked in my rear and side view mirrors. 

Oh. SH*T. I had driven off with the nozzle still in the car. Gasoline was pouring out of the pump and splashing onto the ground. Completely embarrassed, I put the car into park and ran back to the pump, where I stopped the gas with my hand. The attendant came out to the car, and I handed him the detached pump. 

As I got back into the car to leave, my mom was sitting in the backseat reading something on her phone. "Don't worry, I've done that before," she said. "Except I drove all the way home with it."