“And the second,” he asks.
“Kneel down here with me.” I point to the tank. “Now listen.” I move the hose up and down slightly. “Do you hear the noise of the hose sliding against the inside of the tank?” He nods. “That lets you know you are actually in the tank. Some later models have anti-siphon screens on the inlet tube to prevent you from putting a hose into the actual tank. If you arced the hose the other way, it would be harder to tell, or hear the hose in the tank.”
“Now, here comes the fun part.” A friend many, many years ago would cup his hands around the inlet and blow into the hose forcing an overpressure inside the tank. Once he took his mouth away from the hose, the added pressure would start the gas flowing in the hose. I, for whatever reason, could never make this work. Not that I ran around siphoning.
Glancing around quickly to make sure we were still alone, I put my hand on the hose just past the highest part of the hose on my side. “Here, put your hand on the hose next to mine. You want to feel for a decrease in temp as the gas flows by your hand. The idea is to drink as little gas as possible. The ideal being zero. Once you feel the gas pass by your hand, quickly put the end of the hose into the can and then let gravity do its thing.”
Opening the gas can, I create suction on the hose, feel the gas pass by my hand, and quick-jam the hose into the gas can. I hear it pouring into the can, and, yay, no drinking of the gas. Ideal conditions achieved. Filling both gas cans, we carry them to the Jeep. With me holding the funnel, Robert pours the gas in from both cans. Whatever ideal conditions were achieved during the siphoning process is quickly lost putting the gas in.
“Try putting some in the Jeep,” I say after like the fourth time my hand becomes soaked.
“I’m trying.”
“Well, try harder. Maybe we aren’t going about this the right way. Try not getting a bit of it in the funnel. Maybe that’ll work better.”
He gives me a big grin, the first in a while. We have always joked around like this and a sense of normalcy settles in on us with a warm glow. Our relationship has always been close, I mean very tight, and we both get a sense that perhaps things will be alright as long as we have this between us.
He gives as good as he takes. I can remember playing a co-op game on our 360. We were in the middle of a battle against the aliens on Halo 3. Greatly outnumbered but holding our own, he comments, “You are a really good shot.” I got ready to thank him when he continues on, “I mean every single shot you fired hit me.” Yes, my gamer tag in Halo should have been ‘friendly fire.’
We finally manage to get the fuel in the Jeep, well, at least some of it, secure the cans and put everything back in. I make mental note to secure a larger funnel and walk back to the white F-150 to put the cap back on, set the keys next to the cap, and close the fuel door. Robert has retrieved the shotgun from the front seat of the Jeep and is surveilling the area. Good, I didn’t even have to tell him.
“Okay, ready?” I ask.
“Yep,” he answers and climbs in.
The fuel gauge reads a little over ¾ of a tank. Good deal. That should be good enough for today, tomorrow, and to get back. I pull out of the gas station, up to the stop sign on the highway, look left, right, and left again — yes, old habits, only, they aren’t really that old — before pulling across the northbound lanes and turn. Southbound toward Olympia.
I drive by the casino on our right after about a mile down the road. I think it may make a safe place but realize there are far too many entry ways and it would be difficult to secure. I mentally strike it off my list of secure places in the event we need one. With the casino sliding past, Robert asks, “What kind of plane are we taking?”
I fully expected him to be concentrating on picking up Michelle but he is already ahead of that now that we were on the way. He always surprises me with his thinking abilities and inner toughness. That same fortitude I noticed when he hadn’t texted Michelle back that night. Now, that would have been tough and must have gnawed at him. He is also one to keep his head about him.
“I’m thinking about a C-17 from McChord if there isn’t anyone there,” I answer back.
“Do you know how to fly one?”
“Um, sure,” I answer back with a shrug.
“Why not a C-130 like you used to fly?”
“Too slow. And besides, they don’t have any up there anymore that I know of. Traded those out some time ago. I think the ranges are about the same in any case.”
“Wouldn’t you want one you were more comfortable with though?” Robert asks knowing you can’t just arbitrarily fly any aircraft you choose because you know how to fly. He was close to getting his Private Pilot license and would have completed that this summer. His grand master plan was to head off to the Air Force Academy and go fly fighters. He is fully capable of doing just that.
“Well, yes, but it’ll take us twice as long, and, like I said, there aren’t any there anyway. It’s going to be a bitch enough with all of the refueling stops along the way, I don’t want to poke around at it too,” I say looking over at him. “I’m not saying there won’t be a steep learning curve needed,” I add after seeing a guarded look cross his face. “And, I will need you to be my co-pilot.”
I see flash of fire and excitement course through his eyes. To the extent that I am thankful there isn’t anything flammable in the immediate vicinity. Oh wait, there is the gas on my hand although evaporated, I think as I mentally tuck my hand under me.
“Okay, grab that note pad”, I say nodding toward the tablet sitting in the glove box in front of him with a pen attached. “We need to make a list of what we need to bring with us tomorrow.”
He grabbed the paper and prepared to write. We think of items and potentialities as we drive to Olympia. When we finish, this is what we have:
Water — from gas station — 1 bottle person per day — 40 min
Food — canned (from gas station)
Bread — if it is still good
Jam and peanut butter
Plastic silverware
Can opener
Flight suits *I have about 10 of them with rank and patches
Flight jackets * I have one summer and one winter jacket
Sleeping bags — 4
Clothes
Changes
Gloves
Warm coats
Sweat shirts
Toiletries
Toothbrush
Toothpaste
Flashlights
Batteries — D and AA
Battery operated cell phone charger — in Jeep
Toilet paper — 5 rolls
First aid — in aircraft
Sunglasses
Tool box
Towels and washcloth’s — 4
Rope — 100’ in shed
Charts, maps, approach plates — worldwide — base ops or wing scheduling desk
Knee boards — in briefcase
Flight computer — in briefcase
Paper tablet — writing on one
Felt pens — red, black, and blue
Binoculars
Weapons — shotgun, Beretta, knives, ammo
I pull off the exit ramp just as we finish our list. This list is going to put a serious dent in the available space we have in the Jeep. Especially with four people. I am assuming Michelle is going with us. I think about using the truck at the gas station but we may manage with the Jeep. This has been a long day. It feels like a week has passed since getting the kids just this morning.