I know I’m dating myself, but do you recall the gasoline shortage of 1973-74, when cars jammed Apponaug Four Corners long before Mayor Joe Walsh implemented one-way traffic in front of City Hall or the roundabouts that are modern-day?

 Indeed, the volume of traffic especially at commuter hours made for congestion, but during the gas shortage matters worsened as vehicles cued up to get whatever they could at the pump. Waits of half an hour were common, and motorists ran out of gas inching along to the pumps.

All the talk nowadays about eggs brought to mind the gas crisis of the ’70s and the panic it invoked among some people. Personally, I was never worked up by the shortage. I was accustomed to driving with the gas gauge bumping off E and knew I could rely on my thumb to hitch a ride if needed. Also I figured the crisis wouldn’t last. The politicians, if they wanted to get reelected, would fix it. The shortage faded into the sunset.

Might, I wonder, government and the politicians step in and save the day before the egg McMuffin goes the way of the Dodo?  What could they do: ration the sale of eggs using odd/even birthdates (which would make for a great “Seinfeld” episode), legislate that residential property owners have the right to raise chickens (there would be a lot of clucking at council meetings over that one) or fund research to come up with the perfect egg substitute?

I’m confident, even though the avian flu is really the big unknown, that it will get figured out before the next election and nobody will end up with egg on their face. The high price of eggs will break, although it is unlikely to drop below what we were once accustomed to paying.

To get a read on what people are doing, I started asking questions and discovered a lot. Predictably, some have reduced or cut out eggs from their diet because they can’t afford them or on the principle they won’t pay more than $5 for a dozen. My physical therapist, whose family started off three years ago with six hens and now has four (two died of unknown causes) has a ready supply of eggs when warm weather arrives. Evidently they don’t lay in cold weather. Until spring arrives, she’s having oatmeal for breakfast.

I thought for certain Mike Penta, who attended the “coffee with cops” event on Wednesday at Red, White and Brew, would have plenty to say. Mike and his wife, Gel, own and operate Gel’s Kitchens in Warwick and West Warwick. I was right: Mike was up to speed on the availability and price of eggs. What I didn’t expect that unlike many establishments, Mike hasn’t changed his menu prices or placed a surcharge of 30 to 50 cents on each egg. His view is that he may lose a bit of money, but in the end he’ll have loyal customers, and that is worth it.

The price of eggs has changed our routine. I started making Sunday morning omelets several summers ago when our garden produced an abundance of parsley and cherry tomatoes that I chopped up to spread as the ingredients to four beaten eggs that I poured into a frying pan with a generous portion of sizzling butter. As soon as the hot pan browns the omelet, I turn down the heat and let it cook while adding shredded sharp cheddar cheese and a slice of American that makes for a gummy mess if you don’t properly flip it.

The parsley and tomatoes aren’t available when I dig through the fridge at this time of year; however, I can usually count on finding cheese and, most importantly, eggs. On Sunday, Carol had four brown eggs out and waiting when I entered the kitchen – the signal that it’s time to make the omelet – the first in a couple of weeks. We would indulge. The eggs were small, but we had eggs. I splurged, adding a fifth to make up for the egg size. Farrah, our canine companion, watched my every move. She knows I’ll give her the bowl as soon as its contents go into the frying pan. With no more weekly omelets, she, too is experiencing the price of eggs.

We savored breakfast. Farrah got the plates when we finished.  

There’s a silver lining to scarcity.