We left PV early this morning, eager to put a few miles under the wheels before the sun started beating down on us. We didn’t get far.
About a mile down the road the engine sputtered for a few seconds. Hmmm? Out of gas? Can’t be, we’ve only gone 175 miles. Our gas gauge doesn’t work, so we just write down the mileage and the liters every time we fill up, and at 200 miles we start looking for a gas station. Hasn’t failed us yet.
But we were heading out of town and had planned on filling up anyway, so I started scanning for a station. I spotted one and was just about to exit off the main lanes into the laterals when Ali yelled, “You can’t go down there!”
Well, actually I could have, it’s just that Ali has a fear of these lane shifts in PV. The laterals are always below the main lanes and she is convinced that the bus will tip over.
Anyway, she freaked me out, we missed the turn off, and continued on. No big deal, gas stations are everywhere. We hit a hill and began climbing toward the tunnel that would burrow through it. About two hundred yards up the hill the bus died. Out of gas. A busy four-lane road, on a hill, just around a bend—that’s where we came to a rest.
Ali jumped out of the bus with a towel in hand and started waving cars over while I started rolling back down the hill. It wasn’t fun, but we made it down without incident, and the bus finally came to a stop on flat ground—directly across the street from the Pemex (gas station).
I ran over, got a bucket, a funnel, and ten liters of gas, then proceeded to spill most of it on myself while pouring it in the bus. She fired right up.
This was not our finest twenty minutes. Not our worst, but not our best either.
I pulled into the gas station and filled the tank. There I discovered that either our gas mileage has gone from a steady 8.5 mpg to a shocking 5. Two scenarios are far more likely. One, someone siphoned off twelve gallons of gas from our tank, or two, the last time we filled up I got screwed by not checking to make sure that the gas attendant had reset the pump.
It’s easy to jump to the number two conclusion, but the reason I’m not sold on that is because when we fill up I always tell the attendant to make sure he isn’t standing in front of the fuel fill—our fill cap is basically level with the tank, and when it is full gas invariably shoots out. Maybe this didn’t happen last time, I can’t be 100% sure, but it is the usual scenario.
The siphoning off of our gas while we were in PV seems more likely to me. Mainly because the timing of us running out after having driven just a mile or two seems too coincidental.
Either way, whatever. Minor crisis.
One funny thing did happen during all of this. While hundreds of cars passed around us without so much as a honk, one car did feel it necessary to give us a hard time by yelling, “F’ing Canadians!” I told you it was a Canadian invasion down here—at least one guy is none too happy about it.
This is the beach that Ali and I would visit each day when she was pregnant with Ouest. It was just across the street from our condo, and is probably one of the best beaches near town.
The kids were stoked. I have yet to get a bite of banana bread.
Probably thinking, “Well, at least it isn’t on fire…yet.”
It was only about 90 miles to our next stop in Chamela, but it took most of the day, thanks to the gas issue and the roads.
Boaters know this place as Chamela, but I guess the town is actually called Punta Perula. Ocean front living. The place is deserted—RVers have headed back north, leaving us feeling as if we’re the only ones headed south.
17 Comments on “Out of Gas”
Get you gas gauge working you stinker…. you could have avoided so much trouble.
I agree! With the ignition on, ground the sender wire. If the gauge swings to empty you just need to swap the float out. Very easy job — unless it’s some kind of special fitting sending unit made only for that old Dodge and no longer in existence.
We’ve actually got two tanks. The original main 50 gallon? tank in the back we have never used. It looks rusty, and we’ve just never needed it. The other is on the side, clean stainless steel, installed either as a factory option, or later by another owner, I’m not sure. It’s 32 gallons. Anyway, the float switch is on the rear tank, the tank we use doesn’t have one hooked up as far as I can tell.
You could get stick like they used on Model T Fords
Maybe a flexible one 😉
Had an old pick up truck once, gas guage did not work, but always carried a jerry can of gas, just in case.
Keep going south, love your blog, you guys are awesome!
I can picture exactly where you ran out of gas. Where did you stay in Punta Perula?
Red Snapper.
The bus on the beach shots… Awesome!
Mark and Cindy
And no rolling around in the swell either.
My OH fitted a new diesel gauge on our boat but wired it the wrong way around. For years E meant we had Enough, and F meant we were F***ed.
Love the blog.
My favorite part of that story is that you guys just left it instead of simply switching them around. 🙂
Gas tank sucked dry, huh? Must have been the legendary Chupa-car-bra …
“This was not our finest twenty minutes.”- My wife and I were riding an old BMW motorcycle through the Loire Valley in France in ’09 and after spending a day with a breakdown and getting back on the road to make a reservation in Chenonceaux, I paid no attention to the low fuel light and my wife alerting me to the light and the fuel situation because I-in a moment of male hubris (translate: stupidity)-thought we were closer to our destination than we were. After discovering that the gas stations all closed fairly early in the afternoon in the town in which we exhausted our fuel and calling our hotelier and having him offer to bring gas, the ensuing time was accurately described as, “This was not our finest twenty minutes.”
Glad it worked out. By the way, I still occasionally suffer the wrath of my beloved over that little mishap.
Keeping track of mileage is far more accurate than a float gas gauge. Trouble starts when you forget to write that last mileage down.
Ali does it while I’m outside paying. She’s a stickler for record keeping, so we never forget.
Boat….RV…..Life
It’s all about how you deal with the drama and come out smiling on the other side! Have a Taco…make that two for me!
To most of the US Minnesota is in Canada!