Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Sputter... sputter... cough

"Hey babe, we're taking the Desoto today."
Poor Lori. At this point I think she knows she only has a 60% shot at an uneventful ride in my Desoto. Running out of gas, dead battery... she's had to deal with both a few times now. As a precaution I now carry a extra gallon of gas and 2 charged batteries in the trunk. My gas gauge doesn't work and my generator doesn't seem to be charging. Let's also not forget no heat, defrost, or windshield wipers. Hey, who needs em!?

So we take off and I'm driving her to her bus. We start heading up the hill and the Desoto starts making it's trademark sputtering "I'm running out of gas" gurgle. And blam. Out of gas. We coast a few feet and I pull over as far as I can, still in the street. We're pointed up a hill about 10 feet from the entrance to the gas station.

A busy street, too. People behind us weren't too happy. I could see Lori sinking in her seat. If she could she probably would have crawled in a hole. I calmly went to the trunk and started adding the extra gas. The angle we were at I can only imagine all the gas in the tank was shifted to the rear. Suprisingly no honking. But 2 motorcycle cops started making their way towards us.

Boy, this gas comes out slow. Glug glug glug.

I hop back in, don't make eye contact with the cops who are starting to get restless. Lori's calm yet wishing for my death. I start cranking her over. You have to be patient. The fuel pump has to suck gas all the way from the tank to the carburetor.

She finally fires up. Lori waves to cops, and we pull into the gas station. I got her to her bus 2 minutes before they left. See babe? No problem!

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