Everyone has triggers which set them off in a bad way. But sometimes a trigger can be for a good reason, as are mine, and I just cannot let these things slide from my conscience without doing something about it. I am talking about people who have no courtesy when it comes to their vehicles. Guess what? I have examples in picture form.
The above picture is a shopping cart outside of Publix. This is nowhere near the collection point, whether you pick the rows in the lobby of the store or the corrals in the parking lot. People leave their shopping carts all over the parking lot, hopped up on the curb, or on the sidewalk, like the picture on top of this paragraph. Now, one day I will get shot or stabbed for how I handle these fantastic people. I walked out of this same Publix a few months ago to see a woman unloading her shopping cart into her trunk while talking on her cell phone. She then left the cart in-between her car and the one next to it (still on the phone). After seeing this, I walked over there and grabbed the shopping cart, which she saw me do. I waited for her to start her car before pushing it right behind her rear bumper and walking away. She jumped out of the car, and yelled all manner of a profanity-laden rant at me in something that was English, but also some sort of hood-rat vernacular I could not process. She then walked her shopping cart (still on the phone) to the corral and drove away.
I have done this multiple times, but her's was the most dramatic, by far.
Here we are at Kroger. I am walking across the safety lane. A safety lane is a no-stopping zone and this one is also a fire lane since it is in front of the store. This scenario has two problems:
1). RedBox
2). Lazy People.
I truly believe that if a store is going to have a RedBox or Netflix machine, they should not put it so close to the fire lane. The fire lane does serve a purpose, and it is not movie rental curb service. The guy in the Expedition in that picture actually stepped out to use the RedBox machine after his wife could not figure out how to use it. I should not have to drive around you and you should not be in parked the fire lane. Period. It is a safety issue.
The other issue here is concerning the people who drop off everyone in the car at the front door of big-box retailers. Go to Target, Wal-Mart (aka the antichrist), Best Buy, the mall, anywhere and you will see some dad park in the safety lane or fire lane to let out not only his wife, but their four kids who are all strapped into car seats, the grandparents, and unload/assemble two strollers (with the hazard lights flashing). I am not a big fan of running over your children when I have to go out of my way to pass your minivan in a no-stopping zone, so take it to the parking lot because my decision to not have children does not mean I should have to tolerate what you do with yours.
I said all of the latter jokingly, but I seriously do not want to run over your children...
Disclaimer: Dropping someone off in a no stopping zone is fine with me under the following conditions:
1). You are dropping off ONE person.
2). That person has their seatbelt off and door ready to open the moment you stop.
3). Your entire stop-off/drop-off lasts less than five seconds.
Not this lady:
She stopped in the fire lane to pick up Chinese food and made three fatal mistakes:
1). Parking in the fire lane.
2). Parking opposite the flow of traffic.
3). Yelled at the cop when he lit her up and confronted her.
I am not sure what happened when all was said and done, but she had a bag full of Chinese food sitting on the sidewalk and the cop who was talking to her had to call another cop because she was screaming her head off about "I went in for a few seconds!". A few seconds, an hour, it does not matter because you are still wrong and probably making your situation worse by trying to justify it. Congratulations, idiot.
This is how you park a car:
Between the lines, in a proper parking space, not bothering nor inconveniencing anyone else. I am not bitter about any of this, and my intention was to be a little comical in my approach, but I think we sometimes forget that common courtesy also applies to what we do with our cars.
Be courteous in parking lots and stop driving like an ass...
The story of my first car is actually fairly interesting. The car was bought by my dad as his first car in 1972. My parents went on their first date in this car, and it was also the car they left the church in on the day they were married. When I was fifteen years old, my dad asked me what type of car I wanted to be my first. I told him I wanted the Mustang, which had been sitting in a dusty barn, without a cover on it for around fifteen years. I had just started working and every paycheck I earned went into that car so I could drive it when I was sixteen years old. My goal was reached eventually and I drove it all throughout high school.
The specifics on it are are follows: 1966 Coupe, C4 automatic transmission, 289 V8, Front Disc Brake Package, and Black/Black color scheme.
In 2005, I was in college and working a full-time job, so I made the decision to park the Mustang until I could give it the proper restoration it deserved. In 2009, I was stable in my career and had moved into my own house. I made the decision to have it towed to my garage, and with the help of my friend Jake, convert it to a manual transmission and give it a proper build all-around. This is the story, as the whole process has gone so far.
This is how the car looked when I put it away in 2005. It was a driver, but I hadn't touched much of the drivetrain besides a carburetor rebuild, tune-ups and that sort of thing. I never drove it more than 20miles away from my house back then.
The Interior in 2005:
The Engine Bay with Air Cleaner Removed:
On the tow truck, ready to be taken to it's new home in 2009:
In my driveway after being brought home:
Tucked into the garage:
The interior held up very well over the years. I test-fit the B&M Shifter, as I was originally going to bench-build the C4 transmission, but decided on the manual conversion soon after.
Another shot of the car up in the air before doing any tear-down
A few parts I put in the trunk were still in there from 2005 and the key snapped off in the lock cylinder. I had to remove the rear sections of the interior to pop it open from inside the trunk. Yes, I managed to get stuck momentarily...
After a few hours of tear-down and fighting a transmission that had not been removed since the day the car was built, Jake and I finally managed to drop the C4. I have dropped transmissions on many cars in less than an hour, but this one put up a big fight. It was also covered in old transmission fluid and dirt since the tail shaft had been dripping; as had the rear-main seal on the motor. That added to the fun...
This is the Ford Toploader 3-speed manual I picked up. It was removed from a 1965 Ford Falcon in the 1980's and had been sitting in a covered garage since. The owner estimated 70,000 miles are on the unit. After removing the cover and running through the gears, I realized it does not need a full rebuild; just a few seals and rebuild on the linkage.
The Toploader, bell housing, and a few gaskets and grommets in the boxes from Mustangs Unlimited.
I took this time to replace the rear main seal on the crank, so the oil pan is dropped. I cleaned the C4 and wrapped it in a bag for safe keeping and installed the bell housing on the Toploader.
The two transmissions measure the same length, and the tail shaft inputs match, so I can use the same driveshaft after getting new U-Joints. The shift linkage is rebuilt at this point.
This is Jake. He has always been into cars, but only started to work on them as a hobby a few years ago. This was fairly foreign to him, but he catches on quickly. I showed him the clutch operation basics and he is installing the clutch fork here.
And he succeeded.
The Toploader installed much better than the C4 came out. It took just a few minutes to muscle it into place.
This is the new flywheel, clutch and pressure plate, torqued to spec, mounted on the 289. The flywheel has a 157-tooth ring gear and the imbalance is 28.2oz if I recall correctly. I had to be careful in shopping for it as the 302/351 flywheels have a 50oz imbalance and I'd rather not shake the engine apart on start-up.
The more difficult aspect of the conversion is actually getting all of the linkage correct from the clutch pedal to the fork. The factory setup uses an equalizer bar (aka Z-Bar) linkage. Ford changed the design of this system a few times throughout the Mustang's first generation, and even in the middle of production runs. I thought about going with a hydraulic setup, but I changed my mind when I found the aftermarket systems to have reliability issues, and cost close to $1000 in most cases. I really could not justify the risk or cost. After a trip to Mustangs Unlimited, I had all I needed. The Delo brand oil isn't something I recommend, but I am just using it as a placeholder in the engine and Toploader until I get the car back on the ground.
These are the clutch and brake pedals I picked up on Ebay. I had to replace the bushings, do some prep and paint, and they went into the car. I didn't take any pics of the install of the linkage, unfortunately because they are in close-quarters and I could not get a good camera angle. Sorry.
I did take the time to polish and paint one of the slotted mags to see what it would look like on the car. I think I have a winner and will finish the rest in the same manner.
All of these pictures are a few years old because for some reason I just cannot bring myself to finish the car completely. I do have most of the parts to get it back on the road but there is something in me that just does not want the project to end and I really have no idea what that is. Hmm...
When I did the blog about the mandolin restoration about a month ago, I promised I would put up some audio of me playing it. Well, as I had all sorts of things running around in my brain I wanted to write about, that was pushed to the back burner. Today, I stumbled across a song I wrote/threw together for my friend the very day I put the finishing touches on the mandolin and meant to put on here as well, but became distracted and never came around to doing so.
It features these two:
The Gibson Songwriter was plugged directly into my Mbox for the recording and the Silvertone mandolin was recorded with a Shure Beta 57A microphone.
The Gibson's parts were done in one-take, very impromptu and the mandolin was done in an open room while I listened to the Gibson's recording on earbuds and played another layer on top of it.
I will do another, more formal, less sloppy song in the near future and isolate the mandolin's sound along with the microphone so it won't sound as airy and droned. This will have to do for now, but I did keep my word.
Thanks for reading and sharing my blog with others, as always!
Sometimes I feel like a preface is necessary for the blogs I write. This is one of those times. Look for the imagery in the title instead of thinking I actually do drugs, because I do not. If you do not understand why I picked the title I did after you finish reading this post, then simply move on and do not consider it anymore. This has been the preface to the title.
The preface to the actual topic begins now...
People hide behind their keyboards all of the time and I absolutely hate that. Rest assured that anything I write about on my blog is something I will gladly address in person if asked and is something I will entirely defend. I will not mention names of people or places in the following post because I do not want to call out someone or something specifically just for the sake of acting like a jerk; that is not my intention and I am not twelve years old. I do not consider anything you are about to read as being personal to me because most of it happened in front of other people and if someone can learn something from my experiences or ideas can spark in their mind, I am happy to share.
This is my left wrist:
This is Hebrew and translated as literally as possible, it says "YHWH". This is the name of God as written in the Old Testament of the Bible, the Torah, and even before that, the ancient scrolls that both of those books derive their content from. I had this tattooed on my wrist as a constant reminder of faith. This was done around the same time I made a conscious decision that I needed to take a hiatus from attending church regularly for a while. I will explain why.
Growing up in a small Baptist church in Georgia was great when I was a kid. We had a pretty large group of young people, many activities going on, and everything continued this way through my high school years. There was not a single event that I was not involved with for the majority of my life as I ate, slept and breathed the whole experience that entire time. When I graduated from high school, things began to change. The natural next step for me was to go to Seminary and get a degree in Theology, but with the application/screening process it required me to take a gap year between high school graduation and my first semester. This short period of time birthed the beginning of what eventually felt as a betrayal to me.
The sad thing is that you can divide up the negative characteristics of people in a church in the same way you can anywhere else; these people exist everywhere. In my case, the issue I had with such a person was based around profanity. Using the term "profanity" has never made any sense to me, so when I hear music with such words in it, well, none of that ever mattered to me. When I was eighteen, I let a friend at the church (who was the same age) borrow a CD that had a few songs containing maybe three instances of profanity out of everything on the album. Her father walked up to me at the following church service, rudely shoved it into my hands and told me he did not allow garbage like that in his house, as her mother looked on from a distance, with the expression on her face showing that I was the worst being ever to have been spawned on this earth. I was an adult at the time and so was her daughter. The fault in this situation was on her, not me. The irony? Both of those parents still think I am absolutely terrible and despise me to this day. They even "told on" me to my parents, who all but laughed about it. Church people are supposed to be different than the rest of the world, right? In this case they were not.
My parents gave me this Bible right before I went into Seminary. I think I have fourteen Bibles in total.
The next step that pushed me away involved my pastor at the time. Everyone knew I was going to get a formal, Theological education and had everything lined up to do so. My normal church attire was a nice polo shirt and khaki pants, which was essentially my daily attire in any case. One day, after church, my pastor pulled me aside, next to my car, away from everyone and told me in a stern manner: "If you are going to take this ministry thing seriously, you HAVE to start wearing a suit and tie to church every Sunday." That instance was the end for me. I was positive that God never set a requirement of wearing a certain type of clothing to me for any reason. With that, I left the church I was actively involved with from the age of five to nineteen years old. There were other reasons that aided my decision and most of those my age had left long before me for those very reasons, but I would rather not go into that right now.
I found a new, more modern church, a mega church, and became very active in the college program there. At the same time, I was taking my Seminary classes from early Monday morning, until around five o'clock at night and two other weeknights. On Mondays, I would drive down to the Georgia Tech campus every single week to help with the college ministry of my new church. I did this for a few years and loved it. Many new friendships were made during this time and I felt like I had finally found a place where I belonged. All at once, I was working overtime at my job, taking nine to twelve hours of classes each semester, volunteering in the college ministry once a week, and volunteering with the high school ministry about once a month while going to church every Sunday morning and Tuesday night. While making friends with people who were involved behind the scenes at this church, I was told that there were some financial skeletons in the closet that most in the church would not ever know about. Hesitant as I was to believe them, eventually, this became very apparent to me. Everyone I knew in leadership at this church knew I was a Seminary student and had no ambition in life other than working in the field full-time as my career. A single spot in the college ministry came up for an internship and three of us applied for that place. Maybe it was silly of me to assume that I would be a shoe-in for this, but I assumed I had a pretty decent shot because I was well-liked, very motivated, and was two years deep into the degree directly linked to the internship. I did not get the internship. I found out a few months later that the young woman (a friend of mine) who did get the spot was the only one considered for the position. You see, her dad is a multi-millionaire who donates large amounts of money to the church; she majored in structural engineering at Georgia Tech and wanted the internship to fulfill some type of extra-curricular requirement in her sorority. She had no intention of going into ministry after college, and she works for an engineering firm currently. Money controls everything...
These are some of the textbooks I have kept from my days in Seminary. I have a box somewhere with more in it stored away somewhere.
After all of this church drama, one would think that I could at least have solitude in my studies. This did not happen. You see, my school was funded by the Southern Baptist Convention and the church I belonged to was of independent doctrine, which meant I could attend the school, but my tuition would cost me one-third more per credit hour than a student belonging to an SBC church. The Dean of the school had a looming disgust for me and actually failed me out of a class just because he could do so. I am not just saying that, because I had another professor who befriended me read over my papers and he found nothing wrong with them. There was nothing I could do, nor my educator friend because their policy said student's grades were at the discretion of individual professors. After that point, I simply avoided classes the Dean was teaching and everything worked well until my last semester.
One semester from graduation, I was pulled from class and told by someone in accounting that I owed my tuition for my last semester before they gave me zero's on my transcript and ruined my 3.4GPA standing. Tuition at this time, was now two-thirds more per credit hour for me as compared to the rest of the students as well. My bank had sent them a check for that amount which was tacked onto my student loan. I called the bank to confirm and they said the school's office had rejected the check and mailed it back to them. Returning to the school, the woman at the accounting desk told me they rejected the check because they no longer accepted checks from my bank, due to their "moral and ethical practices" the school did not agree with. I had to come up with more than three thousand dollars in cash or withdraw by the end of the day. I had no choice and withdrew, thinking I would save a bit and return after a semester off.
I tried to enroll after a semester's hiatus and was rejected. My GPA had fallen to a 1.2 because the classes I had withdrawn from were not dropped by the registrar's office as they should have been. I was told I had to write a letter to Dean on the main campus of the school in another state and wait for a response. In the meantime, they decided to charge me for those classes and I received letters and phone calls from their business office threatening to send this amount to collections, not only for the classes they should have dropped, but classes "I registered for" the following semester as well (which could not have happened since I had not set foot on campus during that time).
After talking about this with a friend of mine who worked on staff at the Seminary, she told me about a meeting she was involved with which discussed student demographics. I was the only student in the entire school who was not affiliated with the SBC and the higher-ups actually made it impossible for me to return for my last semester of school. My friend revealed all of this to me on her own, privately after she was fired from her position at the school. Why? A pastor she worked for five years prior came out of the closet as a homosexual in 2010. The school fired her because she worked for this man five years before he confessed to homosexuality. The sickening thing about my situation and that of my friend is that there is nothing either of us can do as the school is entirely private.
I feel as if I have been continually wronged by the church over the past few years. This is not a pity party on my end at all, but an expression of truth for me. This is not to dissuade anyone from going to church in the least bit because if you find some place you enjoy and are deeply involved with, I wish you all the best and think that is fantastic. You keep doing your thing and give all of the glory to God. As for me? I have had trust issues with the church for the past three years and have gone randomly, but not steadily. I know people who say they do not go to church because they are fulfilled in other ways, when the reality is that they are just too lazy to go and could benefit from it if they made the effort. I also know people who would love to go to church but have a nasty hangover every Sunday morning.
I do not drink at all anymore, I do not go out to party very often, I do not do drugs, I try to be as honest as I can be to everyone, I try to be caring, and none of that has anything to do with my religion and I certainly do not try to push my own faith, beliefs, and choices on anyone else. The former are all by personal choice and we are all given the right and freedom to make those choices. The thing about me is my faith in God is strong, stronger than it has ever been and I have the education to back up what I believe. I still love it entirely. I trust my beliefs and try to be an inspiration to others even though I fall way too short and will never be good enough for myself, much less God. The fact of the matter is that I do not trust the church anymore, and for the time being, I truly feel I am better off spiritually without it. This may change sometime, but probably not soon. It is just something I have to go through myself and figure out on my own. I think people assume I have fallen away from my faith when I decline church invitations from them, but I am at a really good place, believe me. I only tell the truth.
Grace and Peace,
-Drew
The lyrics in the title of this blog are from this song:
A little weekend roundup blog of sorts is what is going to happen right now. You see, one of the reasons I started this blog was due to my love of writing and encouragement from friends to continue the practice, and the other was so I could keep a real journal online about my life instead of putting up random pictures that clog up the news-feeds of my Facebook friends. If you have not noticed, the only time I put anything on my Facebook status is when I post a new blog. This gives people the option of seeing what I have been up to instead of being sort of forced to look at it?
I think my new schedule of operations for the blog is going to be a Monday through Friday daily post with a few weekend posts here and there as I feel inspired to do so. This Life Blog project I have started is growing incredibly fast, so if anyone has a suggestion of anything you would like me to write about or questions you may have, leave a comment on here and I will try to make a blog about it. Now, to the weekend.
Unfortunately, my uncle Roy passed away early Wednesday morning after years of fighting various forms and stages of cancer. Luckily, through my job and being around the family more overall I had much more time with him in the past two years than I had in the previous ten or so. I have been to many, many funerals in my life, but I had never driven in a procession from the chapel to the cemetery until Saturday morning.
I was amazed at the lack of respect other drivers have for funeral processions these days. When I was a kid, everyone and I mean EVERYONE pulled off the road and stopped to show respect. We even had a full police escort leading and trailing the procession, but still other drivers broke into our line and tried to get around. Be who you want, but I find that disrespectful to the family and the deceased in any situation. I know this is more of a traditional behavior rather than a rule of the road, but it still gets to me that people cannot follow that one, simple practice.
This is a distance photo and the only other picture I took of the funeral because I think taking pictures like that is a bit weird. My uncle's casket is not in this picture, as I would not do something like that, but the majority of my family is buried in this same exact area. All four grandparents, two aunts, and now two uncles have grave markers all essentially within sight of each other, even though they are on both my maternal and paternal side. Strange how that worked out.
I have this weird obsession as of late and it involves candy. Now, anyone who knows me in person is well aware that I have lost over sixty pounds in the past seven months, but I eat one roll of these every day. I have no idea where this all came from, but these stupid things make me happy.
As do these:
And these:
I think you burn every calorie you consume when you eat sunflower seeds because they are such a pain to eat. But, I know that it is better to eat throughout the day instead of solid, timed meals, so popping in a mouthful of these make for a good hold-over. Just watch out for the sodium content. David sunflower seeds are horrible, even though they are the most marketed brand. Jumboz and Big's seeds have a more consistent size and you are much less likely to find a rotten seed. The dill pickle flavor is actually really good and the flavor fades quickly, though the salt and pepper are my favorite by far.
I have my mom hooked on the protein/energy bar bandwagon and I like to give gifts that people can actually use, so I bought her a bag full of random bars for Mother's Day. The Think Thin Creamy Peanut Butter are the best ever and I owe a friend of mine a big
"thank you" for introducing me to them...
We had a family Mother's Day picnic at the park on Sunday, which is pretty close to my house, so Tiffany and I arrived a little early.
We watched the kites:
And played fetch:
And when I came home, the AJC had left a newspaper on my driveway... I do not have a subscription, but I like reading the newspaper more than reading online, so I will take it!
By the way, read the labels on the food you buy (these are not mine) because there is no reason why a jar of dry roasted peanuts should have an ingredients list that contains anything more than "peanuts, salt". Seriously?
I apologize early that this photo blog was probably not as interesting as it could have been, but when your weekend starts off with a funeral, your mood tends to be a bit altered and such sets the tone for the rest of the weekend. Blah.
Stay tuned for something more interesting tomorrow. I promise!
Posted by DrewCoustic on 11:54 PM with No comments
I made the decision earlier today that I was not going to write a blog. There have been too many things happening lately and Friday is the one chance for me to calm down and just crash after getting home. I even fell asleep on the couch in my bedroom for a moment until my friend sent me a text message that woke me up. Car issues, work deadlines running full-speed ahead, still fighting occasional nose bleeds, and my uncle died on Wednesday; these are all reasons most would say I should have fallen back asleep and just taken time to not worry about writing anything and sleep it off until tomorrow. No. My mind does not allow itself to turn off that easily.
Last night, at the funeral home of all places, a cousin much older than me who I had not spoken to in years walked up with a smile on her face and the first words out of her mouth were: "So, Drew, when are you ever going to get married?". I get that question in some form or another fairly often; sometimes sarcastically as my cousin asked, and sometimes in expectation of a serious response from me. I never really know what to say to that other than expressing that I am content with myself at the moment.
Do I believe in marriage? Yes, I do. My parents are a living testament to my belief in it and I respect that so much and am thankful for that environment growing up through today. In complete sincerity, the reason I am not married has nothing to do with not being able to find someone stupid enough to marry me because if that was a huge goal of mine I really do believe it would have happened by now. Getting married is easy, being married is hard, and more than half of those who get married do not make it. My faith in the practice for myself diminishes because of that.
I know plenty of people in my age group who say the same thing as I do, but live their lives in an entirely different fashion. These people go to bars and other places specifically to pick up men or women with no goal in mind except their own sexual desires and short term conquering goals. That is not me in the least bit, not even in earshot, actually. I really think I am the only socially developed male left who has never gone "out" with the intent of meeting a woman. That makes me dull, I guess. This is not saying I am a massive homebody, because I am not that person either and like new experiences. However, I think our dating practices are so flawed that I want no part of them.
As I have said in a previous blog, we have entire magazines, blogs, and YouTube channels devoted to dating tips and tricks. That does not sit well with me and I would rather be myself all of the time, not trying specifically to impress anyone or going out anywhere with any pretensions other than having a good time. The romance you see in movies and television does not exist to me and I really do not think you can create any amount of a solid connection with someone by setting up a date after one, initial meeting. Did it work in past generations? Absolutely! But now, we are too educated, too connected to the entire world, and have too many methods of communication to allow ourselves to grow steadily together, if that makes sense. There are exceptions to every rule, but most people do not fit into the latter description.
The thing is, if I am going to get married, I would rather it be with someone I have a solid foundation of knowledge and experience with long before romance even enters the picture. I know too many people who dated for multiple years, lived together, married, and divorced because they ended up not having a clue who they actually married. Is my method normal? Heck no, but when has anything I have said sounded normal? Tell me there is not a single part of it that makes sense though. You must find a little truth in my idea somewhere. I do not date because the pressure is not worth it to me and I have convinced myself the odds of me ever actually knowing the person beyond the dating mask and fluffed-up impressions are pretty slim and none of this is worth any effort on my end. Sorry.
I am not married. I am happy. This does not mean I am a serial dater. This does not mean I am gay. This does not mean I have a list of women on call. This does not mean I think the concept and practice of marriage is dead.
This does mean that I think much differently than most anyone else my age.
This does mean I may be single forever.
I am fine with that.
Posted by DrewCoustic on 10:34 PM with No comments
Today, gather around, children and I will tell you the pitfalls of choosing the cheapest gasoline available over a more trusted and proven brand. I will first put out the disclaimer that I am well aware of how refineries work and that all petroleum products are essentially blended and processed at the same place. The transport of this fuel, the way it is dispensed, and the manner in which it is stored can and does have quite an effect on the quality factor, however.
Being an enthusiast of anything running on gasoline or diesel, I have my preferences on where I buy my fuel. Any true car guy (or girl) has a specific brand of fuel they swear by and anyone who researches the topic will be able to come to their own conclusions as well; my brands are Shell and Exxon. These two brands are the only ones I allow in any car or motorcycle I have owned. My own research and consumer experience have created this loyalty and I will stand by it. Now, Kroger (the grocery store) has built small gas stations in their parking lots around here and you earn "points" when you buy things in the store that translate to "discounts" on the price of their gasoline. This is all marketing, of course, and is just another way to get you to spend more money in the store than you will ever save on fuel. Now you know.
In full disclosure, I have used Kroger's gasoline in the past in my lawn mower and weed trimmer. I buy my protein bars there because they are cheaper than most other stores, but that is really it. Kroger is not my ideal grocery store by any stretch of the imagination, so I go there for that one purpose. The "fuel discount" points I would save up over time would be used for the yard equipment, but would not EVER go into the gas tank of any road-going vehicle I own. I do not trust their "no name, no brand, no guarantee" gasoline in a car. Until last night when I decided to put about $15 worth in my car just because it was running low and Kroger happened to be close by on my way home.
This morning, about half a mile from work, during rush hour traffic, the car sputtered, stalled, knocked, and died. It lived just long enough for me to coast off the side of the road.
I tried to start it a few times, reset the computer, I even swapped the Idle Air Controller I ended up replacing yesterday with the old one to see if that was the problem. Nope. Ping, knock, 200rpms, dead.
Then this happened:
The guys at United Towing are very nice, even if you only need a half-mile tow. Ugh...
I did some thinking while I was waiting for the tow truck and stared at the nice grass I was standing on:
While the driver was winching the car up onto the truck and I was doing some random iPhone googling, I thought about the sub-par fuel I pumped into it last night. For those of you who do not know, if your car is fuel-injected, there is a schrader valve on the fuel rail (think of the valve you put the air hose on when you fill a tire) that can be used to relieve the pressure on the fuel system. After thinking about how the car acted when it stalled out and died, I began to think I had figured out the problem. I wanted to show the "fuel" pressure coming out of the release valve, so I took a quick video:
The fuel pump moves whatever liquid is in your gas tank under a very high pressure and sends it to your fuel rail so it can be burned in the engine. Notice I did not say it moves "gasoline" or "fuel" to the engine because it will move whatever liquid has ended up in your gas tank and attempt to make it burn. When you release the pressure on the fuel system, it takes about a minute for everything to spray out while you hold the valve open. My video is only a few seconds because I wanted to show you what it looks like when you do it, but after I stopped recording that clip I did a complete depressurizing.
What came out of my fuel rail? It was not gasoline...It was water. A car cannot run on water and if you try to do so, the results can actually cause "hydrolock" which can completely trash your engine. Luckily, this was not the case for me and after blowing the water out during a few pressure cycles, I began to smell gasoline coming out of the valve. Gasoline floats on water and my fuel pump pulls from the bottom of the tank, so once I bled out all of the water, only gasoline was left to come through the fuel line.
The car runs fine now. I immediately drove it down the road and put proper fuel in it. The lesson I learned is that I will never put Kroger-branded fuel in anything I own anymore; not even my lawn mower. It is not worth the risk, and depending on the compression ratio of your engine, a little water in the system can cause a catastrophic engine failure via hydrolock. I am lucky this did not happen to me.
If you want to continue using cheap, knock-off gas because nothing like this has ever happened to you, go right ahead and do so. The one time I put it in my car, bad things happened which could have been much worse. I simply wanted to put this out there as a warning to those who take that risk. I also know it has the potential of happening to any brand or any station, but going with a national brand who guarantees their product is always a safer bet for a measly five cent savings on the gallon.
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