The Greatly Peskiferous System

McMoose has a GPS thing that he got last Christmas, and the thing has its benefits, but for the most part? It kinda sucks. I mean, it's useful when we want to find a gas station in the middle of nowhere (really, really useful), but that's about it. For one thing, it talks with a British accent, and although that was cute at the beginning, it's not so exciting when you have to try to figure out that it's telling you to "Take ramp ahead" as you're driving 80 miles per hour down the interstate.

But yesterday, I didn't feel like turning the computer on, waiting through all of its tantrums, and then waiting for the wireless Internet connection to kick in just to get some directions, so I took Diana (Yes, we named the GPS) along. And for the first 15 minutes, it was smooth sailing. And then, it decided it hated interstates, so it directed me along every back road between here and Virginia. And because I had nothing else to do that day except drive to and from Virginia, I decided it might be fun to take the back roads. Turns out, I was partly right because it's a much more scenic route. But then, there was the part that made me want to pull out my hair, strand by painful strand.

The problem with back roads is that they don't have much in the way of gas exits, so when you get to the first gas station in 50 miles, you convince yourself that even though you still have half a tank left, you still need to fill up or else your car will die and the grizzly bears, THEY WILL EAT YOU. So I filled up at a station which had exactly 1 working pump. And then I thought maybe one of my tires looked low, so I pulled up to the air pump, only to find that the gauge was broken. So I decided, in my great foolishness, to go talk to the attendant.

Me: Hi, the air gauge on the pump is broken. Do you have another one?
Attendant: Now, why don't you ask your Daddy to fill up your tires for you?
Me: Um. Because my...daddy...lives in Canada...but I can do it myself, if you just have an air gauge?
Attendant: Well, then, I see you have a ring on your finger. I'm sure your husband would be happy to do it for you.
Me, getting a bit annoyed: Yeah. Actually, I know how to fill the tire, I just need an air gauge.
Attendant: Well, see, my son-in-law took it to Wyoming and hasn't brought it back yet.

Ok...so (a) why didn't he tell me in the first place that he didn't have an air gauge? Was all the added commentary really necessary? And (b) could someone please explain to me why it's apparently IMPOSSIBLE for me to meet a halfway normal human being, EVER?