More veggie oil zsores....

I should get 750 miles to my main tank that is the only one hardwired into the engine so I have to watch out for sunshine to charge my batteries and plan on pumping oil when the sun is shining brightly.

            So I’ve lost an hour crossing into Arizona and because I left the Bay with 150 miles already on my tank of veggie oil, I pull into the first rest stop so I can begin pumping while there’s still sun.

            Fuckin eh, my pump is dead. Really, dead. I shouldn’t be surprised as it ran for at least 8 hours a few days ago when I was pumping oil at about a gallon or two an hour.

            But I'm not worries as I do have the electric pump – that is the pump that runs on AC electricity – but no where to plug it into.

            I start calling around for Harbor Freights so I can purchase another DC pump (my first off-the-grid choice) – there are only hardware stores close to where I’m at and low and behold because I’ve lost an hour, they are closing before I can get there. And it will take too long to get to Phoenix tonight before 8pm so I head into Quartzite which is an rv haven and try to figure out where I can either find another DC pump to buy or plug in and use my electric pump. After stopping at a few places with no luck, I consider going to an rv park & seeing if I can plug in for an hour or so but then I see a Pilot truck stop that actually has an oil change & tire store for trucks.

            With my truck out of view, the nice young white male mechanic there, by himself, says he has no DC pump but points out an electric outlet on the side of his building, saying some guy was there all day charging his phone so he might as well allow me to plug in.

            I’m so excited – I pull out my electric pump and all my tools and connections I need to hook up to my veggie oil and fuckin eh, again, this pump refuses to suck oil – it comes on, stirs up a little oil in the hose, but that’s it.

I’m resigned to heading into Phoenix and buying yet another DC pump so I call it a night after driving to he rest stop near one of my favorite YMCA’s west of Phoenix so I can head there first thing in the morning. The whole time I was stuck in Rancho Cordova, and since I’ve been on the road, I haven’t exercised at the Y so I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep and an early a.m. working out at the Y.

I don't understand...

In the huge parking lot at Trader Joe's, brilliant sun shining, brand new solar-charged battery pump, chill in the air, I begin to fill my veggie oil tank, the only one that is hardwired into the engine.

The pump springs into action, I'm sooooo relieved to hear, but when I check the oil flow, it looks like semi-liquid butter and not the beautiful clear oil I pumped into the tanks a couple days ago. I switch tanks, thinkin maybe another tank would be clearer but it all comes out the same semi-congealed mess.

I pump a little into a jar and send pics to my blessed veg oil guy across the country. He thinks maybe some coconut oil or meat fat has gotten into the tank and settled to the bottom, which is where I pump from. He thinks the system should be able to handle heating it up and running on it, so I continue filling my tank and once again hit the road.

I lost so much time trying to find an oil change place that now I'm concerned I won't be able to stop in El Paso as planned unless I make up for lost time. I'm feeling good and have Arundhati Roy's 30+ hours of her Seditious Heart essays to keep me on edge, so I think I can drive into the night.

Oil Change Troubles....

There’s no speedco (where I usually go for an oil change when I’m on the road) for a couple hundred more miles so I google and find a Rush Truck Center about 20 miles out of my way. I’m happy to see lots of brown guys and native womyn working there.

The young brown man designated to work on my truck showers me with lots of love. He gestures to the back of my truck smiling broadly and tells me he is the son of immigrants himself: from Iran on his father’s side and Armenia on his mother’s side.

            He reassures me he is going to take good care of my truck – and he does.

            When I go to leave, I see on my bill the oil filter costs $22, which is a good deal & so I ask the cashier to add another oil filter to my bill. She brings out a short, fat filter that is NOT my filter….Oh no, not another ‘issue’.

            I seek out Rafael and we go to the truck & I see he has put the wrong filter on it – the lucky part is that I have caught it before I left; the not so lucky part is that the service desk is telling me this is the right oil filter. I argue briefly and then leave to find Rafael.

            Rafael confesses that it is not the same size as the one he took off. He does some research, comparing the number on my old filter and tells me it will take a couple days to get the right filter delivered unless I want to pay for a rush order.

            Are you fuckin serious?

            I’ve done business with Rush in different states, especially in Atlanta so I decided to call Atlanta Rush and speak with the service guy there. He looks up my record and finds the proper number for my oil filter and then, miracles of computerized inventory, he tells me there is one in stock at the Rush dealer I am at. I get the number, give it to Rafael and he finds the right filter, replaces it, and I’m on my way.

            If I was at all superstitious I’d think this trip is doomed & blame the universe instead of the challenges of life. I take off, hoping that I've had my share of challenges this trip.