The tank is always half full

Last week (just before pay day) one of my journalists shared with me the fuel gauge meme that I have included with this story. It was mildly funny at the time. Less so now that it turns out that I fall into the ‘Type B’ category.

On Thursday I shot out of the office to run an errand and halfway up Ballito Drive it occurred to me that I should probably fill the tank . . . only moments before I came to a grinding halt.

OK, truth be told it only occurred to me when the car made an odd little shudder, before then I was completely oblivious. So there I was in the middle of the road, smack bang between two petrol stations and unable to reach either of them.

To the two gentlemen who stopped to check on me, thank you, its nice to know that chivalry is not dead.

As my hubby was in Umhlanga for a meeting he automatically dialed the one person who is sure to help anyone in a pickle, Courier sales rep David Hoehler.

Not only does David rescue damsels in distress as part of his job description, in his free time he also rescues people from snakes (or snakes from people, depending on your perspective). He was there with a container of diesel within minutes.

The last time I ran out of fuel in the middle of the road was ten years ago in my first car, a beautiful, chocolate brown 1984 VW Beetle original that previously belonged to my gran. When the fuel gauge broke travelling became a bit like gambling. Driving has never been as much much fun since.

There was nowhere she could not go. We even ventured into Lesotho and down the infamous Sani Pass in her, much to the delight and awe of every four-wheel vehicle driver on their way up. Literally everyone who drove past us stopped to take photographs. It was quite a surreal experience. Of course I did not know it at the time – but have since discovered – that the first two-wheel-drive vehicle to make it up Sani Pass was a VW Beetle in 1956. Motoring journalist and World War II fighter pilot Sy Symons made himself quite famous with the little adventure.

The pass was hardly more then a goat track at the time and certainly only the fodder for the toughest four-wheel drive vehicles.

Thinking back on our trip through Lesotho, I had another fuel-related misadventure while traversing the rugged, unspoiled countryside (I think I am starting to see a pattern here). I made the fatal error of entering the country on an almost empty tank.

We stopped to fill up at a small nondescript petrol station after only just making it through the border on time.

I drove off and after a few minutes my varsity buddy and I began to suffer under the most oppressive pong (worse than living in Mandeni). The horrible realisation that we could not out-drive the stench soon hit us.

It was as if someone had put a dead horse on the back seat . . . (or more accurately, the fuel tank). It was the middle of winter and freezing cold with snow on the ground and little frozen waterfalls on the side of the road.

Yet there we were driving with the windows down, heads out the windows and our scarfs wound around our mouths!

Perhaps rotting carcass is a Basuthu secret ingredient for improving an engine’s horsepower . . . or an unfortunate translation error? Regardless we can be thankful that our petrol is not of the dead horse vintage.

Most of today’s fancy vehicles would probably have curled up and died on such a diet. But not the VW Beetle.

Those cars could almost have run on air they were so hardy. Which brings me back to ‘Type B’ personality type. If cars could have personalities – and they do – then the Volksie was the quintessential optimist.