Dear Gasoline,

I have to say, you and I have had a pretty steady relationship since I became a licensed driver. Before I knew how to use you properly, I saw stopping to get you as an excuse to steal a dollar in quarters out of the center console of my dad’s car. From there, I would run to the food mart and buy a pack of gum I’d finish in less than a day, corresponding with my incessant need to chew six sticks at a time (don’t even get me started on what happened when I decided on Bubble Tape). Stopping to get you would be an excuse to stretch my legs on a long road trip or perhaps even start a conversation with a kind stranger or peep at Tiger Beat magazine while my mom bought cigarettes.

Sometimes, stopping at your place of business was even a fun activity. Once I learned how to put you in the car properly, it was always my favorite thing to do. While the tank filled up, I was able to perfect my window-washing skills (which are still terrible, and I’d like to take this time to apologize to my parents for the awful streaks I left on the windshield. Because, if my ability to wash windows nowadays is any indication of how I used to do it, I am completely impressed there weren’t at least a dozen car accidents in my childhood). Gasoline, you were nothing but fun, bonding and good memories for me.

But now that I’m older, wiser and a much more productive member of society, I have to say something I really wish I didn’t have to say. It’s hard to say the words. How do you tell something that was once the light of your life that your relationship has drastically changed? How do you completely undo what nearly two decades have done? It pains me to say this, gasoline, it really does. But I totally hate you now.

You’re like my elementary-through-middle-school best friend who became popular and stopped talking to me because all the cool kids wanted to be her bestie. You’re like my really cool cousin who got a sweet new fauxhawk and is now too cool to sit with me at the Passover Seder and only talks to my cooler older brother.

Bottom line is, you’ve changed. And not the kind of cool change like Brittany Murphy’s makeover in “Clueless.” You’ve changed in a totally different and less-fabulous way. You’ve changed for the worse.

I remember when I first got my car and you were only $2.50 per gallon. I only needed to spend 25 bucks to fill up my tank. Twenty-five bucks. That’s it. I used to be able to drive anywhere I wanted to go, whenever I wanted to because, at 16 years old, I had no other financial responsibilities. I worked 10 hours a week at Corner Bakery and that $70 was mine to spend as I wished.

I remember you slowly creeping up, which is understandable. You’re high in demand and you gotta do what you gotta do. You’re a working gal and I can’t expect you to stay low and not be able to pay your electric bill and feed the kids. But, come on. I’m not saying you have to go back down to 30 cents like you were when my parents were born (although, I think if you did do that, you’d make a lot of friends and be far more popular), but can you at least not cause my heart to jump out of my chest every time I drive by a station?

I pulled into Shell the other day and paid $4.49 per gallon. I silently wept as you filled my tank, knowing I had no other option, and drove off cursing you under my breath.

I’m hearing reports you’re going to go up to $6 a gallon. I can’t even fathom the day when that happens. If you get that high, it’ll be a downward spiral. I’ll sell my car, buy a unicycle and then try to have a normal life, which will, obviously, be next to impossible.

Why can’t we go back to the way things were? When things used to be good? I can’t imagine living a life where everyone loathing your existence is fun. So do all of us and yourself a favor by bringing your prices back down. Something manageable. Something doable. Something we can all sleep with a little easier.

Despite our tumultuous relationship as of late, I really haven’t lost all my faith in you, Gasoline (or Gas, for short. Remember when I first gave you that nickname? It was our first date …). I believe you can change. I believe everyone deserves a second chance.

Please, baby, don’t let me down.

Never-ending love,

Hayley