A month after declaring a one-tank-of-gas summer, the gas needle is pointing between one-half and three-fourths, so I'm going to say that I have...two-thirds of a tank left? That's pretty good considering that Mr. F. borrowed the car and drove out to the satellite campus one day. I had to stifle a protest: "But my one-tank-of-gas summer!"
If the higher gas prices only affected slackers like me who can walk or ride their bikes most places, I'd be all for them. But I feel bad for people who have to drive. Which would be most people, I guess.
My address has a Walk Score of 67, which means it is rated "Some Walkable Locations," almost "Very Walkable." The food co-op is .42 mile away, my office is .92 mile away, the nearest bar is .55 mile away...what more do you need? Well, there is the gym, and the supermarket, and the hardware store, but I've been trying to combine errands whenever possible.
The only thing that has backfired was that I was trying to be very clever and not drive to the mall (4.6 miles away!), so I ordered a glass pitcher from target.com. It arrived in a giant box inside of another giant box, thus probably giving it a way larger carbon footprint than if I had driven. It reminded Mr. F. of this absurd story in boingboing.