Pete the Beet
Nov. 4th, 2006 11:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringColour me embarrassed! For the second time in my life, I've run out of petrol/gas. Where it's a car I've been driving, that is.
The first time was many years ago when my wife and I were living in married quarters on "The Patch" at HMAS Cerberus in Crib Point in Victoria. My wife worked at the naval hospital during the day and I worked in Melbourne, a two hour commute away. One day, well night really, I got off the train and my wife greeted me that the car needed petrol. She'd probably rushed home after a hard day, collected the kids from childcare, and hadn't wanted to strap them into the car and go out to fill up.
Only problem was, by the time I arrived home, all the nearby service stations were closed, and I drove past this parade of service stations which my wife must have gone by, all the way to the servo on the outskirts of Hastings. Two hundred metres shy, the car conked out.
Well, last night was the second.
To begin with, it had been a good night. Friday means a lot of work, and I had taken in a third as much again as for a normal weekday night. There had been some torrential rain in the first hours of my shift - and I mean torrential, it was full on, reducing visibility, water across the road, Parkes Way gridlocked, airport shut down etc. - and that slowed things down a little. Caused a little extra work, probably, but as it happened at peak hour for taxis, all that meant was that the list of urgent jobs grew longer because more cars couldn't magically appear to do the extra work. It must have been hell in the despatch centre.
Anyways I had an excellent night, and I'd done quite a bit of milage. Usually I fill up midway through the shift when there's a break, but there wasn't a convenient break. I wanted to wash the car, and that meant being in Braddon, but every time I drove back into the central area I'd get work. I'd done about 360 kilometres, the "Distance to Empty" was showing at 340 kilometres, it was near the end of my shift and I was heading back in to top up the car, run it through the wash, go off shift and leave it at the day driver's house. It was about two thirty and I was feeling rather pleased with myself for having gotten a lot of people home safely, coped with the dangerous weather conditions and made a pile of money.
So there I was, heading down Haydon Drive on my way back in from Charnwood, way out in the west of Canberra, when the car began to cough and splutter, lose power and generally act like a pig. Uh-oh. I wasn't sure what it was, because the engine had been making odd sounds for a while, but I knew it wasn't good.
I pulled as far off the road as I could and tried to get things going again. I could start the engne, but it ran very rough and didn't have the guts to lift me up over the sloping kerb to get fully off the road.
Nothing for it but to ring the boss. Two thirty in the morning, but he answered on the second ring. I described the problem to him over the phone, and he talked me through a series of diagnostics. Apparently my cab is a dual-fuel vehicle and switches from gas to petrol at need. But there's a problem with the petrol side of the thing in my cab. Something to do with the injectors, and my rudimentary mechanical knowledge is way over stretched at this pont.
The phone call didn't get me going, so next step was for the owner to appear. He quickly established that I'd run out of gas and the petrol tank was empty. Seems there is a switch to transfer from one fuel to the other, with an indicator light. I had taken this to be something to do with the security camera.
The owner went off to a service station, came back with a can of petrol, which didn't work, or not well enough to get me mobile. So he went off again and returned with a portable gas cylinder and a hose with fittings for the car. He transferred that in, and the car started first time. We then drove in convoy to a service station, where we filled the car up completely. He took a look under the bonnet and made a quick inspection of the interior and pronounced it not quite what he desired. I think I've got a bit further to go in car maintenance and cleaning, though to be fair, it had been a long shift, some of it in muddy conditions, and I was heading for the car wash and a bit of work under a light in the forecourt to clean the interior before handing it back to the day driver.
The under the bonnet check, which revealed low levels of fluids and an alarming coating of dust, was my fault entirely. Admittedly, the day driver should have been checking these things, but as the owner pointed out, "If you assume he's done it, and he assumes you've done it, then nothing gets done."
And then I was back on the road, an hour or two late. I crawled into bed, exhausted, mumbled a brief explanation to my worried wife, and fell instantly asleep.
And at this stage, my respect for the owner increases one more notch. Middle of the night, he's all business, politely, calmly and logically going through the steps to get the car going again, and once going, he gave me advice on how to improve my performance.
A lesser man, such as myself, might have been flustered, angry, sarcastic, abusive, vindictive. I am lucky to be working for a prince.
And now it's Saturday. The day driver takes the weekend off, so I'm going to start my shift early and spend the first hour giving the car a decent going-over in daylight. And running out of gas is one mistake I won't make again. I now know the warning signs, and not to rely on the trip computer.
One thing about this game, this old dog is learning new tricks. I'm so glad I've taken up cab-driving. I'm losing weight, i'm becoming more confident, I can feel the navigational regions of my brain expanding, I'm making money, and meeting interesting people.
But I think the best part is the warm glow of satisfaction that I'm able to get people quickly, safely and comfortably to their destinations, even if (especially if) they are drunk. It's one thing to get people to the airport on time, but if the cab service wasn't available in the small hours after the buses stop running, then people would be tempted to drive home drunk or walk long distances in the dark, prey to all manner of misfortune.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a wee bit of sleep to make up before getting bac into it. Saturday night is a long one!
The first time was many years ago when my wife and I were living in married quarters on "The Patch" at HMAS Cerberus in Crib Point in Victoria. My wife worked at the naval hospital during the day and I worked in Melbourne, a two hour commute away. One day, well night really, I got off the train and my wife greeted me that the car needed petrol. She'd probably rushed home after a hard day, collected the kids from childcare, and hadn't wanted to strap them into the car and go out to fill up.
Only problem was, by the time I arrived home, all the nearby service stations were closed, and I drove past this parade of service stations which my wife must have gone by, all the way to the servo on the outskirts of Hastings. Two hundred metres shy, the car conked out.
Well, last night was the second.
To begin with, it had been a good night. Friday means a lot of work, and I had taken in a third as much again as for a normal weekday night. There had been some torrential rain in the first hours of my shift - and I mean torrential, it was full on, reducing visibility, water across the road, Parkes Way gridlocked, airport shut down etc. - and that slowed things down a little. Caused a little extra work, probably, but as it happened at peak hour for taxis, all that meant was that the list of urgent jobs grew longer because more cars couldn't magically appear to do the extra work. It must have been hell in the despatch centre.
Anyways I had an excellent night, and I'd done quite a bit of milage. Usually I fill up midway through the shift when there's a break, but there wasn't a convenient break. I wanted to wash the car, and that meant being in Braddon, but every time I drove back into the central area I'd get work. I'd done about 360 kilometres, the "Distance to Empty" was showing at 340 kilometres, it was near the end of my shift and I was heading back in to top up the car, run it through the wash, go off shift and leave it at the day driver's house. It was about two thirty and I was feeling rather pleased with myself for having gotten a lot of people home safely, coped with the dangerous weather conditions and made a pile of money.
So there I was, heading down Haydon Drive on my way back in from Charnwood, way out in the west of Canberra, when the car began to cough and splutter, lose power and generally act like a pig. Uh-oh. I wasn't sure what it was, because the engine had been making odd sounds for a while, but I knew it wasn't good.
I pulled as far off the road as I could and tried to get things going again. I could start the engne, but it ran very rough and didn't have the guts to lift me up over the sloping kerb to get fully off the road.
Nothing for it but to ring the boss. Two thirty in the morning, but he answered on the second ring. I described the problem to him over the phone, and he talked me through a series of diagnostics. Apparently my cab is a dual-fuel vehicle and switches from gas to petrol at need. But there's a problem with the petrol side of the thing in my cab. Something to do with the injectors, and my rudimentary mechanical knowledge is way over stretched at this pont.
The phone call didn't get me going, so next step was for the owner to appear. He quickly established that I'd run out of gas and the petrol tank was empty. Seems there is a switch to transfer from one fuel to the other, with an indicator light. I had taken this to be something to do with the security camera.
The owner went off to a service station, came back with a can of petrol, which didn't work, or not well enough to get me mobile. So he went off again and returned with a portable gas cylinder and a hose with fittings for the car. He transferred that in, and the car started first time. We then drove in convoy to a service station, where we filled the car up completely. He took a look under the bonnet and made a quick inspection of the interior and pronounced it not quite what he desired. I think I've got a bit further to go in car maintenance and cleaning, though to be fair, it had been a long shift, some of it in muddy conditions, and I was heading for the car wash and a bit of work under a light in the forecourt to clean the interior before handing it back to the day driver.
The under the bonnet check, which revealed low levels of fluids and an alarming coating of dust, was my fault entirely. Admittedly, the day driver should have been checking these things, but as the owner pointed out, "If you assume he's done it, and he assumes you've done it, then nothing gets done."
And then I was back on the road, an hour or two late. I crawled into bed, exhausted, mumbled a brief explanation to my worried wife, and fell instantly asleep.
And at this stage, my respect for the owner increases one more notch. Middle of the night, he's all business, politely, calmly and logically going through the steps to get the car going again, and once going, he gave me advice on how to improve my performance.
A lesser man, such as myself, might have been flustered, angry, sarcastic, abusive, vindictive. I am lucky to be working for a prince.
And now it's Saturday. The day driver takes the weekend off, so I'm going to start my shift early and spend the first hour giving the car a decent going-over in daylight. And running out of gas is one mistake I won't make again. I now know the warning signs, and not to rely on the trip computer.
One thing about this game, this old dog is learning new tricks. I'm so glad I've taken up cab-driving. I'm losing weight, i'm becoming more confident, I can feel the navigational regions of my brain expanding, I'm making money, and meeting interesting people.
But I think the best part is the warm glow of satisfaction that I'm able to get people quickly, safely and comfortably to their destinations, even if (especially if) they are drunk. It's one thing to get people to the airport on time, but if the cab service wasn't available in the small hours after the buses stop running, then people would be tempted to drive home drunk or walk long distances in the dark, prey to all manner of misfortune.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a wee bit of sleep to make up before getting bac into it. Saturday night is a long one!
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-05 06:21 am (UTC)You're doing wonderfully! We are all very proud of you, in case you hadn't noticed.
{{{{{Pete}}}}}