Until recently, whenever anybody saw my 2008 Chevy truck, the only reaction was pity for the rusted fenders, the lopsided suspension and the many large dents from deer that underestimated the time it took to cross the road in front of me. But now, with soaring gas prices, when people see my truck, they put their hand over their heart with respect and say, “What are you getting—like 18 miles a gallon?” “More like 16,” I say, pretending to downplay the flex. “Dude, are you rich or something?” I shrug modestly.

Nobody needs to know that I wouldn’t even consider filling the tank without first checking with my bank. I’ve stopped using the air conditioner to save gas and tossed out toolboxes, spare tires and any other non-essential weight like the frantic captain of a sinking ship. I’m learning that when the fuel gauge says “Empty”, it doesn’t really mean it. Fumes can usually get me another five miles.

Drivers are resorting to desperate measures to stretch their gas mileage like coasting the last 200 yards to the stoplight and turning off the engine until the light turns green. Gone are the days of “going for a ride” just for fun. Now, you plot out necessary trips strategically, calculating the shortest route between stops. Instead of hopping into the car for spontaneous errands, you ask yourself if you can possibly do without that red nail polish or that box of Cheerios. When your child asks, “Can you give me a ride?” you say, “Sure, if by ‘a ride’ you mean walk with you three miles into town.”

Desperately searching for a technical solution to the fuel crisis, some do-it-your-selfers are scouring how-to videos on YouTube. Seriously, how hard could it be to make your own gas? Gasoline is a liquid. Must be mostly water. Right? Let’s give it a whirl! Some drivers have reported limited success using a sail made from a bedsheet stuck out the sunroof. Maybe passengers could help reduce drag and increase acceleration by leaning forward like a bobsled team. Everybody knows quick stops and starts waste gas. Why not try driving really, really slow?

Economically, it makes no sense hauling a vehicle made of two tons of steel and glass to the store for a loaf of bread when you’ve got a perfectly useful bicycle in the garage. And it’s such good exercise. I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was a student but they say you never forget how to do it. “Like riding a bike” is the old saying. I dusted off the bicycle seat, put air in the tires and launched down the side street next to our house. I was glad there were no police around to witness me wobbling wildly, barely staying within my lane, because they would certainly have pulled me over for a field sobriety test. I suddenly realized any oncoming cars would either swerve off the road in panic or smack into me while I fumbled for the brakes. As my life flashed before my eyes, I recalled the sign above our neighborhood convenience store, “Regular gas: $4.55/gallon.” Sounds like a bargain to me.