Thoughts About Gas

Some thoughts spring out of nowhere. Deep thoughts. Important thoughts. Life altering thoughts. This wasn't one of them.

I was pumping gas into my SUV when it hit me. I have been pumping gas since I was eight, before it was illegal to do it at eight. And may I say (which I may since I am writing this), I am an excellent pumper. I am such an excellent pumper that I once pumped 18 gallons of gas into a 16 gallon tank. That particular tank was in a boat, a 16 foot inboard/outboard that had been the family boat for years.

After a day of skiing we needed gas. We pulled up to the dock, I spun the cap off the gas port, careful not to let the cap fall in the water (the chain that secured it to the boat had long since broken), jammed the pump nozzle in and started pumping. This particular gas port was finicky and you had to hold the nozzle just right or it would cut off, so I sat on the back of the boat holding the nozzle, talking to the guy who had made the gas run with me, and glancing at the pump every so often to see how much it was going to cost him (his turn to buy).

At 16 gallons I thought, “Wow, we ran her dry.” At 17 gallons I thought, “I thought this was a 16 gallon tank.” At 18 gallons, “This is strange,” not thinking how strange it really would be to pump 18 gallons into a 16 gallon tank. But I stopped pumping.

I stopped pumping and started noticing a very strong smell of gas.

I hopped off the back of the boat and pulled the engine compartment open. It had more than the normal accumulation of water. Then I had a thought, arguably my first clear thought since I started pumping. I dipped my finger in the water and sniffed it. It wasn't water. It was gas.

It wasn't just a little gas. It was, oh, about 18 gallons of gas. Eighteen gallons of gas in an open compartment with a battery, a hot engine and a number of electrical wires. I thought, “Not good.” Yes, I am very perceptive. And bright. Except when it comes to calculating how 18 gallons fits into a 16 gallon tank.

None of the gas went into the tank. When I had so delicately, gently, and softly jammed the nozzle into the gas port, I had jammed it though the hose connecting the port to the tank. Every ounce had gone into the engine compartment and up into the hull of the boat. We were sitting on a very large Molotov Cocktail with an electric fuse.

After borrowing a hand pump, we spent the next few hours pumping gas out of the boat. We then started pouring buckets of water into the boat. That didn't seem right, but it worked.

I know it worked because, after closing my eyes and starting the engine, I heard the engine and not an explosion. At the time, I thought it was the logical thing to do.

On second thought, my thoughts that day could have been life altering.