Diesel?? What Would You Want That For?

In the following days we worked in San Jose -  Oakland and then on our third day we traveled through the amazing city of San Francisco. What an incredible great city! I felt like I was in an Italian postcard as the homes and business rose into the hills surround the city. We worked setting up a store in the morning across the water in Oakland and then traveled south of San Fran near the airport to work in another store before again heading back north. James was driving when we left the store because yours truly was all geared up to see the Golden Gate Bridge.

Neither of us "Road Warriors" took time to notice the fuel gauge was buried in the red. Let me make a long story short. While I was busy trying to take pictures with my stupid cell phone of one of the most famous bridges (you can see them here as soon as I can get them loaded) James was busy panicking about the fact that we were on empty. There is obviously no emergency diesel on the bridge as they didn't have the foresight to see a couple of googly eyed touristy type morons who would forget to fuel up before heading out! Of course there is no diesel fuel after the bridge and I mean well after the bridge. If you haven't traveled north across the bridge, the terrain becomes extrememly hilly. We finally got off an exit and the first gas station we flew into had no diesel. It seemed logical to me to ask the guys that were renting trucks next door where we could get diesel. They apparently didn’t buy into my logic and seemed confused with my questioning so it seemed we were stuck. We drove about another mile and again another gas station with no diesel. 

We were growing extremely tense and turned of the XM radio, as if by removing noise in the cab of the truck we were going to eek  out another mile. There was little conversation between us as we both leaned forward in our seats, again hoping somehow it would help us further down the road. At the second station I went in to ask, hoping someone would know where we could purchase what we found to be rare substance, diesel fuel. Inside was a teenage girl cleaning the restroom; “Oh great” was my thought as we, tried in my broken Spanish and her broken English, to communicate. She pointed and tried to explain to me where to go finally relenting to drawing me a map. Her English was better then my Spanish. With new life and map in hand I hopped in the cab and we were off. We turned up a hill down a hill, getting off the exit she clearly marked and there it was not one but two stations with big signs diesel. Yeah!!! “Sorry sir we don’t take credit cards...”  No I only wish I was kidding. So limping, spitting, and putting we pulled in the next station. Fill it up please!!! Then off again...