DEFEDE / What I have in common with NASA

JIM DEFEDE The Miami Herald

"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no use being a damn fool about it.''

-W.C. Fields

OK, so I guess our eyes will have to turn skyward another day.

Personally, I'm devastated. I was excited about Wednesday's scheduled shuttle launch. I even set my alarm for 10 a.m. so I could watch all the pre-blastoff pageantry on TV.

But then, a few hours before the Space Shuttle Discovery was scheduled to lift off, the mission was postponed because of a malfunctioning fuel tank sensor.

Apparently the sensor indicated the fuel tanks were low when in actuality they were full. Which to me, didn't seem like that big a problem.

Now if it was the other way around, I could understand. You don't want to get way out in the middle of space, thinking you have plenty of gas, only to find out you are running on fumes.

I had a car in college with that very same problem. I would think I had plenty of gas and then all of sudden the engine would start sputtering and before I knew it I was coasting to a stop.

The gas gauge would show that I still had half a tank, but as soon as I would tap it with my finger the little needle would slide below the empty mark.

''Damn fuel tank sensor,'' I'd scream.

This one time, I was driving to Denver (I went to college at Colorado State University in Fort Collins), and I ran out of gas on I-25 near Loveland.

I tried hitchhiking to the nearest gas station, but no one was willing to pick me up. And truth be told, I looked pretty scruffy in college -- not the handsome, debonair figure you see above.

Plus I think I was still in my bib overalls stage back then. I now realize that probably wasn't a good look for me.

The point is, I had to walk nearly two miles to a truck stop. Complicating matters, I didn't have a gas can and I didn't want to buy one because they were expensive.

Instead, I bought a gallon jug of lemonade, quickly chugged half of it down and poured out the rest. I then rinsed the container, shook out all of the water and proceeded to the gas pump, but the attendant started giving me an attitude, saying he was not allowed to fill up a plastic jug with gasoline.

By now the heat, along with the fumes from the diesel trucks, were staring to have a negative effect on the half-gallon of lemonade in my stomach. Without warning, I vomited in front of the gas pump.

The attendant freaked out. He thought I was doing it deliberately.

''"You want gas, pump it yourself,'' he yelled, backing away from me.

I don't even remember paying for the gas. I think I just staggered off after filling my jug. There was no hope of getting a ride back to my car. Who's going to pick up some sick looking kid in bib overalls carrying a gallon jug of gasoline?

When I got back to my car, I fashioned a funnel out of a rolled up newspaper. Nevertheless, most of the gasoline spilled all over me. If I got a quart of it into the tank I was lucky.

Finally I got back into my car and with a few pumps of the gas pedal, managed to get it started.

Why do I tell you this story?

Because I'm betting the gang at NASA can overcome their malfunctioning fuel tank sensor just as I did. And they'll be on their way soon enough.

It's that ''can do'' spirit that has always made America great.

Although, if they can learn anything from my experience, I'd tell them to stay away from the lemonade.