First it was $30.

Then it was $45.

Clearly, this gasoline thing has grown out of hand. Makes you wonder why we elected, then re-elected, a Texas oil man as president.

Makes you wonder why anyone would drive a V-8, four-wheel-drive vehicle unless they needed it to survive. I certainly don’t. It has turned from a harmless extravagance into a luxury I cannot afford.

The last tank of $30 gas brought me exactly 179 miles for a cost just under 17 cents a mile. That is ridiculous.

It is almost funny to see the big pickups lined up at Village Variety, their owners swearing at the pumps and owner Gary Fowlie. Fowlie, reputed to be the richest Democrat in Maine, throws his hands up, claims none of it is his fault, then switches the subject to his “outrageous” Camden property tax bill.

I had to buy the brutish Toyota Tundra (I love that name) after I got a V-8 four-wheel-drive monster as a loaner when my faithful Honda (latest of eight) spit the transmission at 30,000 miles. I needed to haul an Avon inflatable to my yacht (that’s what the insurance policy says) and I needed four-wheel drive to get to Sugarloaf. There is no justification for the V-8 except that I love to drive really fast and I just love the sound.

Now that the sailboat is for sale (cheap) and 64-year-old knees won’t allow much skiing, there are precious few reasons to continue this V-8 relationship.

My annual, 5,000-mile trek to Florida climes now costs close to $600 in gasoline. That is ridiculous.

To complicate matters, I was introduced to the perfect car this weekend. Our dinner hostess brought us to the garage where her brand-new, supercharged Mini Cooper convertible sat, gleaming.

The Mini is not only one of the cheapest, fastest, coolest cars extant, it gets something like 40 miles a gallon. It might be time for some serious shopping.

To make matters even worse, New York Times foreign affairs expert Thomas L. Friedman went on the “Imus in the Morning” show this week and suggested that, given the new “flat Earth” economy, the next national effort, on the level of the moon shot, should be total energy independence for the United States.

Now I feel guilty and unpatriotic, on top of being gasoline-poor.

Then, when I start looking at the auto ads to pick out my next high-mileage, efficient, patriotic car, I have this mental image of a mammoth Toyota Tundra smashing head-on into a Mini Cooper with both vehicles at, say, 75 mph.

Maybe I will stay in my big red truck – and pay the price at Fowlie’s.

At least it will help him pay his “outrageous” property taxes.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.