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Best part of running out of gas

Posted 8/19/14

Here’s a sure way to meet some nice people – run out of gas on West Shore Road, just beyond the railroad underpass.

It’s a perfect spot. The road widens so you’re safe from being hit and …

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This Side Up

Best part of running out of gas

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Here’s a sure way to meet some nice people – run out of gas on West Shore Road, just beyond the railroad underpass.

It’s a perfect spot. The road widens so you’re safe from being hit and there’s a convenient stonewall, ideal for sitting as you wait for help. I almost forgot to mention; it doesn’t hurt to be driving a cherry-red 1962 Porsche. That’s as good as waving a flag.

I should have read the symptoms that the gas was running low.

You would think, having owned it since 1966 and knowing the gas gauge hasn’t worked for the past 25 years, I would have a system to guess when the tank is going dry. Instead, I’ve come to depend on a feature that really should be in all cars. The 356 Porsche has a reserve gas tank; actually, it’s a baffle that can be activated with the turn of a handle under the dash. The extra gas gives you another 10 miles or so. The Germans seemed to have thought of every contingency: A backup for a faulty gas gauge, and for a forgetful driver. But they hadn’t covered all the bases.

What they hadn’t considered is if you don’t return the reserve lever to the off position after fueling, there is no reserve. That was the case under the underpass. I could think of no worse place in Warwick to halt in the midst of traffic, not to mention in the confusion of Apponaug Circulator construction. The car started coughing, then bucking, as the engine sipped the last of the gas. I reached for the lever. It was already on reserve. I was cooked.

Thankfully, no one was ahead and the Long Street light was green. I put the pedal to the floor. She protested and nearly made it up the hill before jerking to a stop.

I considered my options.

I figured I was midway between the Cumberland Farms in Apponaug and the service station at the intersection of Nausauket Road. Either way, even if I walked, I would need a can to get the gas.

I took the easy way out and called Richard Fleischer at the office. He was driving his 1969 TR 250 and, secretly, I was thinking how cool it would be to have a vintage British car come to the rescue of a classic German one, and the gas gauge on Rich’s car works. How’s that for British technology.

“Where are you exactly,” he asked.

He was in a rush to a meeting, but he thought he could swing it. It was cinched when I remembered a gas container in the storage room, something left from the days we had an emergency gasoline-fired generator. With Rich on the way, I relaxed and sat on the stonewall. A minute later a shiny black late model Porsche pulled up.

“Wow, what a great car,” I exclaimed.

The driver beamed.

“That’s not a bad one, either,” he said.

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

I told him help was on the way and we spoke Porsche for a bit and then he pulled off with a throaty roar. Thirty seconds later, an SUV pulled over and the woman leaned toward the open passenger window.

“Are you all right, Mr. Howell?”

How thoughtful! I thanked her and assured her I was quite fine.

A minute later, Jeff Gooding came to a stop behind me. He was driving his green TR 6, returning from the racetrack at Limerock, Conn. No, he hadn’t been on the track himself, but recounted what he had seen. The topic changed to sailing and the summer news. Then he was off and, no sooner than that, Rich pulled up with the gas can with what was probably a couple of cups of fuel.

I poured it in and then worked the throttle up and down before trying to start her. She cranked over twice, and on the third try the engine came to life. Rich zoomed off to his appointment. I continued down West Shore to the station at Nausauket Road.

She was thirsty, all right, but I didn’t fill her. It can be smelly if there’s an overflow.

I slid behind the wheel but, before reaching for the ignition, I looked under the dash. I closed off the reserve, so there would be some gas the next time she started running dry.

The Germans really know how to design a car. You just need to remember to think like a German when you are using it.

Comments

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  • ConcernedResident

    Great story!

    Wednesday, August 20, 2014 Report this

  • mthompsondc

    Just thank God it wasn't raining! As I recall, John, the Triumphs have quite a bit of Lucas electronics under the hood. And we know how they ran...or didn't...in the rain. I always carried a can of ether along with me while driving my 1960 Morris Minor 1000...which, by the way, used to be tended to just around the corner from where you ran out of petrol -- B&B Imported Car Service.

    Tuesday, August 26, 2014 Report this