The screenshot below annotated with key moments in the strange, short, very slow and entirely miraculous journey shows the intersection of Washington Boulevard (running east/west) and Redondo Boulevard (north/south).
Backstory: One of our patrol cars, a Crown Victoria paid a visit to the mechanic’s this week, towed there on Tuesday for a busted fuel pump. Picking it up the following morning, I was cautioned that there was “very little gas” in it. Little did I know “very little” meant less than two miles’ worth, but I found out 1.9 miles later (Moment 1) heading west on Washington Boulevard approaching Redondo Boulevard when the Ford Crown Victoria up and died.
My first thought was to pull into the back of the upcoming left turn lane and stop (Moment 2) thereby creating as little an obstruction as possible, but when I got into that lane the car, traveling now at about 10 mph still had enough momentum that I entertained the idea (Moment 3) of keeping her going right into a left turn and then the gas station conveniently located on the southwest corner of the intersection. Bear in mind, I’ve dropped the car into neutral and am keying the ignition saying “Come on you sumbitch!” over and over hoping to find one last drop of gas in the barren tank with which to refire the engine and boost me to my destination. There was none. Bear also in mind, the anxiety I was doing my best to keep at bay. If anyone reading has ever run out of gas on a public thoroughfare, you know how that feels and it’s not good. Then factor in that I’m behind the wheel of a marked law enforcement vehicle and that takes the feelings of stupidity and embarrassment to a whole different adrendaline-infused stress level.
As luck and timing would have it, I was able to do-or-die commit to that left turn (Moment 4), at this point having lost practically all momentum and now traveling roughly 1-2 mph because by some minor miracle there was zero traffic coming eastbound toward me on Washington. Had there been any I would have then had to come to a stop smack in the middle of the intersection and thereby succeeded in creating my worst nightmare becoming the greatest obstruction possible.
Into the turn I went at this snail’s pace pulling hard on the now power-steeringless wheel. It seemed like it took a full minute to get pointed south onto Redondo where I took advantage of the down slope to gain some additional momentum for the turn into the gas station (Moment 5), which unlike the bird’s eye view above showing it appearing empty, was packed not only with every visible pump occupied but also a big fuel tanker offloading into an underground tank.
I decided to roll her as far into the station as she’d go and she crept between a car on the right and the corner of the building, where I prayed I’d be able to coast her next to a pump open on the other side. That prayer went unanswered so I kept her going onto the sidewalk, once again to impede as few others as possible, and brought her to a stop (Moment 7).
Looking back on where I started piloting that two-ton brick on wheels versus where I ended up, I’m simply blown away by all the aspects that had to come together to allow that.
There are a few loose ends I feel compelled to wrap up. Where I’d parked was far beyond the reach of the nearest pump, even if it wasn’t being used. So I went in to the cashier and asked if they had a gas can I could borrow. “No, he said, pointing behind me, “but you can buy one.” And that’s how my agency came to own a one-gallon gas can for $13.99, which if your familiar with these containers are far more difficult to operate than those simple ones from back in the day. The one I bought had a double-safety mechanism I had to master in order to unscrew the cap and then after that I had to finesse the gas pump in order to fill it with $4.35 worth of gas.
Once that was completed, I then carried the gas can over only to find attaching the spout to be another chore, but one that paled in comparison to then figuring out how to hold down the trigger on the spout in order to empty the 87-octane elixer into the car’s gas tank. Truth is I spilled some. But I got enough to its destination that allowed me to start the car up, pull it to a pump proper to fill her up only when I tried to make that purchase with the company’s credit car it was declined. I later found out the two previous $13.99 and $4.35 purchases triggered a fraud freeze that wouldn’t allow the third, which was just icing on the crap cake.
Not trusting the gallon would get me where I needed to go, I used my personal card to pour ten bucks in and called it an adventure.
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