When Your Gastank Reads "R"...
Jun. 19th, 2009 04:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiffieIt means jack shit.
Went to go see Hissy on Wednesday. We talked and she measured me for a waistcoat and we worked on her AX costumes.
On the way there, Jeeves decided to give the whole external combustion thing a try (again) by dropping a vent hose on the freeway. The engine promptly overheated and the built-up oil on the underside of one of the carbs began to burn off. Cue me and Hissy standing in front of Jeeves' bum, bucket of water at our feet, drinking tea, waiting for Jeeves to put himself out. He did. Eventually. Once everything was cool, I reconnected the vent hose.
My mom drove Voodoo over, I swapped cars with her, and she took Jeeves home for a formal look-over.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, save for the drive home. I hadn't gotten gas since I was in San Luis, and, by then, Voodoo's arrow was nearing the dreaded "R". Actually, by the time I pulled into the gas station, it was on "R".
After all of the crap that had gone down with Jeeves, I just wanted to get gas without incident.
Pfft.
Kiffies: *double-check that the gas tank does, indeed, read "R"*
Gas Tank: 'Sup.
Kiffies: *nod and begin to pump gas*
Voodoo: :9
Gas Tank: *hiccup*
Fuel Pump: *kicks off at 7 gallons*
Kiffies: ...you are kidding me.
Voodoo: *sipping contentedly*
Kiffies: LYING. WHORE.
Voodoo: :3
So it looks like my gas gauge is FUBAR'd. Whoo.
Went to go see Hissy on Wednesday. We talked and she measured me for a waistcoat and we worked on her AX costumes.
On the way there, Jeeves decided to give the whole external combustion thing a try (again) by dropping a vent hose on the freeway. The engine promptly overheated and the built-up oil on the underside of one of the carbs began to burn off. Cue me and Hissy standing in front of Jeeves' bum, bucket of water at our feet, drinking tea, waiting for Jeeves to put himself out. He did. Eventually. Once everything was cool, I reconnected the vent hose.
My mom drove Voodoo over, I swapped cars with her, and she took Jeeves home for a formal look-over.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, save for the drive home. I hadn't gotten gas since I was in San Luis, and, by then, Voodoo's arrow was nearing the dreaded "R". Actually, by the time I pulled into the gas station, it was on "R".
After all of the crap that had gone down with Jeeves, I just wanted to get gas without incident.
Pfft.
Kiffies: *double-check that the gas tank does, indeed, read "R"*
Gas Tank: 'Sup.
Kiffies: *nod and begin to pump gas*
Voodoo: :9
Gas Tank: *hiccup*
Fuel Pump: *kicks off at 7 gallons*
Kiffies: ...you are kidding me.
Voodoo: *sipping contentedly*
Kiffies: LYING. WHORE.
Voodoo: :3
So it looks like my gas gauge is FUBAR'd. Whoo.
