Scary story!
Last week I drove to my friend's house, about twelve miles away. I was going to pick her up so we could go to a movie. She lives on a busy street in the city, and there's usually no place to park.
I was lucky: there was a parking space right in front of her building on the northbound side of the street. I was heading southbound. I waited for a break in the traffic, then I swung into a driveway just south of the parking space, intending to back out pointing northbound, and snag the space. (I've done this maneuver many times before at this spot.) I pulled into the driveway, and the car died.
There I was, with my car half in and half out of the northbound traffic lane. I tried to start the car. It responded sluggishly, as if the engine were flooded. Of course, I couldn't smell anything. The car finally started, and I backed out fully into the lane. It died again. I started it again, with more difficulty than before. It died and started twice more, but somehow I managed to get it into the parking space before it died for good.
Oh well, no movie. At least it was legally parked, and not blocking traffic. I went upstairs to my friend's house to break the sad news to her, and to call Triple A. Her boyfriend just happened to be home. (Yes, I am sorry to perpetuate this sad stereotype, but neither my friend nor myself know anything about cars, females that we are. Pathetic but true.) He came downstairs to have a look at my dead car.
"I think maybe I flooded the engine somehow" I said. "Yeah, it smells like gasoline" he said.
Then we noticed a big dark puddle underneath the car. The puddle ran all the way back under the car down the street and into the drain. Whatever it was, it was still leaking. Of course, I couldn't smell anything. My friend's boyfriend stuck the tip of his finger in the puddle and took a sniff. "Gasoline" he said.
Ohmygosh. There was a huge puddle of gasoline under my car, and more leaking out every minute! Quick, quick, nobody light a cigarette! The whole thing could blow up any second!
Well, it probably wasn't all that dangerous. My friend's boyfriend didn't freak out, and neither did the tow truck driver, or the guys at the service station. And the repair turned out to be really minor - a $48 plastic hose that took about ten minutes to replace.
But I still get queasy just thinking about all that gasoline, and how flammable it is, and how it just looked like water to me.
I was lucky: there was a parking space right in front of her building on the northbound side of the street. I was heading southbound. I waited for a break in the traffic, then I swung into a driveway just south of the parking space, intending to back out pointing northbound, and snag the space. (I've done this maneuver many times before at this spot.) I pulled into the driveway, and the car died.
There I was, with my car half in and half out of the northbound traffic lane. I tried to start the car. It responded sluggishly, as if the engine were flooded. Of course, I couldn't smell anything. The car finally started, and I backed out fully into the lane. It died again. I started it again, with more difficulty than before. It died and started twice more, but somehow I managed to get it into the parking space before it died for good.
Oh well, no movie. At least it was legally parked, and not blocking traffic. I went upstairs to my friend's house to break the sad news to her, and to call Triple A. Her boyfriend just happened to be home. (Yes, I am sorry to perpetuate this sad stereotype, but neither my friend nor myself know anything about cars, females that we are. Pathetic but true.) He came downstairs to have a look at my dead car.
"I think maybe I flooded the engine somehow" I said. "Yeah, it smells like gasoline" he said.
Then we noticed a big dark puddle underneath the car. The puddle ran all the way back under the car down the street and into the drain. Whatever it was, it was still leaking. Of course, I couldn't smell anything. My friend's boyfriend stuck the tip of his finger in the puddle and took a sniff. "Gasoline" he said.
Ohmygosh. There was a huge puddle of gasoline under my car, and more leaking out every minute! Quick, quick, nobody light a cigarette! The whole thing could blow up any second!
Well, it probably wasn't all that dangerous. My friend's boyfriend didn't freak out, and neither did the tow truck driver, or the guys at the service station. And the repair turned out to be really minor - a $48 plastic hose that took about ten minutes to replace.
But I still get queasy just thinking about all that gasoline, and how flammable it is, and how it just looked like water to me.