Gargantuan gas guzzlers on the road sure do bring out the worst in me.

There's just something about standing at the gas pump with my dumpy little car next to someone with a tank bigger than a swimming pool that makes me want to yell, "What on God's green earth could you be thinking?"

It's like watching a remake of "The Little Shop of Horrors." They stick in the nozzle, and $70, $80, $100 of gasoline later, the car still is bellowing: "Feed me! Feed me!"

Makes me cranky and judgmental, and it doesn't do much for my complexion, either. If my mother were alive, she'd say my bad disposition is making my face pinch up as if I were suckin' a lemon. She was big on not throwing rocks from your own glass porch, and she would have been the first to wave the nozzle at me and say, "I don't see you riding a bike to work."

It was probably guilt over my own self-righteousness that made me call Dolly Baus, a 55-year-old wife and mother, who lives in Hinckley, Ohio. Dolly has had it up to here with people questioning her values because she drives a Chevy Suburban, and she let me know why in an e-mail, titled "Addiction to Oil."

"Every news broadcast and newspaper article dealing with oil talks about our addiction to oil," she wrote. "WE ARE ADDICTED TO OUR FREEDOM. I could not care less about oil. I'm NOT a lobbyist and I don't own an oil well. I hate the fumes that make me sick when I put gasoline in my gas tank.

"I AM ADDICTED to the freedom that my BIG beautiful Suburban gives me when I want to go antique shopping, help my kids move into their new home, haul my recycling to the collection site, haul sand and brick for my new patio, bring my 100-pound pooch for long rides in the country, haul the camper on vacations, or just be able to stretch my arthritic body out comfortably."

Dolly said she gladly would fill her tank with urine "if some motivated scientist would develop the process." Then she pleaded, "Stop blaming the American spirit for the oil crisis."

Dolly's husband, Bob, is an electrician; she was a stay-at-home mom and sole caregiver for her mother, who had a stroke and lived with the Bauses until she died in 2005.

Dolly and Bob have driven used Suburbans since the early 1970s and currently own a 1994 model. "When the dog throws up or the kids spill things, you don't get excited," she said, explaining why they never bought new.

It mattered to them to buy American and to have a car that made them as self-sufficient as possible.

For years, they hooked a camper to their Suburban and hauled it across the country so their daughters could learn about America. That's one thing about Dolly Baus that comes through loud and clear: She loves her country and what it stands for, which is why she's upset about the shape it's in now.

"I can remember reading my father's copies of Popular Mechanics and Popular Science when I was kid, and there were stories even back then about new designs for car engines and how they'd save fuel. What happened to all those ideas? All those patents? What if they were bought up by the oil lobbyists?"

"Voters," she added, "don't have any lobbyists."

When Dolly pulls in to a gas station, strangers often make disapproving faces. Sometimes, they ask about the size of her tank. She never pulls a punch.

"We're not apologizing to anyone for our car, and I always say we're not giving up our Suburban until my arthritis stops me," she said. "I look like a grandma, so I'm not the kind of woman who causes people to get angry. I tell them: 'We can put a man on the moon. Don't tell me we can't do a better job with energy.'"

Typical response?

"They almost always nod and say: 'Yep. You're right.'"

One of the lessons I took away from talking to Dolly is that we don't know why people buy the cars they drive, and it's never useful to assume the worst about another human being.

It is, however, still OK to howl at a Hummer.

On that one, even my mother would have agreed.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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