This is the second in the Family Legends series. This is the infamous story about “The Gasoline Can.” Even in my youth I was a compulsive tinkerer and fixit person. This is a story that could have had a very different ending…
In grade school my principal sources of income were weeding in the family garden at a rate of $0.10 a row and mowing lawns. I had made a trailer for my bicycle with the wheels and part of the back frame of a tricycle we had salvaged from the dump. I got to use the family lawn mower, but I had to buy my own gasoline. My gasoline can was a two gallon oil can all painted up fire-engine red and with “Gasoline” stenciled diagonally across the two sides in bold yellow letters. The can would snap nicely into my rear cargo carrier rack on my bicycle and it was five blocks to my Spokane neighborhood gas station at the corner of Nevada and Wellesley. I just checked the satellite view on Google Maps and the station is still there.
On this particular summer day I rode over and bought two gallons of gasoline, put the change from my dollar bill back in my jeans pocket and started for home. On my way home I jumped my bicycle off the curb, (they hadn’t invented wheelchair friendly ramps yet.) I heard a crash behind me and there was my gasoline can in the middle of the road. It was a bit wrinkled on one corner but otherwise appeared to be O.K.
When I got back home I noticed there was a very slight leak at the wrinkle. I set the can in the middle of the drive way and lugged the Prest-o-lite Torch out of the basement shop and set about soldering up the leak on the wrinkled corner of the gasoline can. I had just about got’er up to temperature when a funny sound caught my attention. It was like “vvvwip, vvvwip, vvvwip.” It was then I noticed that the leaking gasoline would repeatedly catch fire, burn the available gasoline and then go out.
I turned the torch off and ran about forty feet away and watched for a few minutes for everything to cool back off. I filled up the lawn mower and stored the can on its good side until I could use the fuel up.
Many, many years later I told the story to my Dad and he couldn’t believe I could get away with such a dumb stunt. I have thought about this a few times, particularly once when I was taking fire-fighting training in the US Coast Guard. We were fighting a simulated high pressure leaking aviation fuel fire. We all had the full aluminized fire suits and approached as a team with multiple fog nozzles and hoses. The fire was very impressive. I think I understand why I got away with my stunt. Very simply, the can was full. Also, even though I failed to anticipate the problem, I quickly recognized it when it appeared. It also helps to be just plain lucky.
We are just about at the end of our stay here in Hillsboro. Mathilda is four weeks old now and Renee has a factory lined up for the diaper business. This week we have been in the middle of a construction zone here at the Hillsboro Elks Lodge. They are installing concrete pads and 50 amp service all around us. Meanwhile we are boondocking, (that is doing without electricity and for a while without water too.) The weather is turning to rain and it is time for us to seek warmer climates.
See you all down the road.
Gary and Judy
