Lesson Learned: The Orange Light of Love
First of all, let me state that I'm a stupid idiot. Good, I wrote it before anyone else could. Now that that is taken care of...
Today, I ran out of diesel fuel on my way to work. Here's the story...
Around Monday, my Jetta's "Orange Light of Love" came on. That's what I call our vehicles low fuel indicator to get a laugh out of my wife. Been calling the light that for years. According to some other threads that I have read, when the "orange light of love" comes on, the TDI is supposed to have about 1.9 gallons left in the tank, which for me equates to about 80 miles. I figured that I had a couple of commuting days to go before I had to fill up.
I had Tuesday off from work, so I didn't drive my Jetta. On Wednesday and Thursday, as I drove the fuel gauge needle crept closer to empty. The plan was to fill up Thursday at my favorite Shell station on Thursday after work. That evening on my way home from work, the needle crept back up above empty. I have found that the needle fluctuates a little for some reason all the time once it comes off of the full mark; it's a bit annoying. So, I thought to myself, there must be enough fuel in the tank to commute back and forth on Friday and then fill up. I lost that bet this morning, my friends.
The first half of my commute to work is about 7 miles of local roads, and the second half is about 8 miles on I-84 West. I got onto I-84 at the Exit 8 exchange. As I approached Exit 6 about 1½ miles down the highway, the Jetta was starting to sputter. Uh-oh, I thought. So, I immediately got off of Exit 6 to get to the nearest diesel station, or preferably the Shell station near Exit 5 (not my prefer Shell station, but that's OK).
Nope, didn't make it. The car died on me on the Exit 6 off-ramp, and I was toast. That was about 6:10 am. I usually get to work by 6:20 am.
First thing I did was put less than a quart of Power Serve in the tank, just hoping that would get me to the Gulf fuel station across the street. Didn't work. Put the flashers on and walk across the street to that Gulf station - NO DIESEL. Next I walked about a ¼ mile down the road to a Valero station - again NO DIESEL. An additional ¼ mile to a Hugo Chavez (I mean Citgo) station, and they did have diesel. I had to buy a gallon container at rip-off "the dumb idiot ran out of fuel" prices.
I filled up my new container with a gallon of diesel and trudged the ½ mile back to my car on the off-ramp of Exit 6. After putting the diesel in the tank, nothing. I noticed that my lift pump was not making the usual swishing sound while placing the key in the "ON" position, so I determined that I did not have enough fuel in the tank to take advantage of the lift pump. So, back-and-forth to the Hugo Chavez station for another gallon of diesel. By this time, I'm literally sweating to death because the humidity this morning was oppressive (to me anyway). My forehead and shirt were nearly soaked.
The second gallon allowed the lift pump to work. However, the car still would not start, and I drained my battery. The battery is the original OEM at 7 years old, and I knew it was on it's last legs anyway. I had planned on replacing it before next winter, but I ended up making the replacement tonight.
Back to the story... At that point, I realized that either the injection pump or the fuel injectors had run dry, and the lift pump wasn't going to prime them again. I did not have my MityVac or a 17-mm wrench with me, so I could not prime anything, and I wasn't going anywhere fast. I know the lift pump was working because I have an in-line fuel pressure gauge prior to the fuel filter, and it was reading at normal psi.
We have one mobile phone between my wife and I, and she is the keeper of that phone. That will now likely change after this experience. So, I walked across the street, asked to borrow the Gulf station telephone, and called AAA for a tow home, which was about 10 miles away. Get this! My wife and I decided to purchase AAA just last Saturday! Lord, have mercy! AAA called a service center for a tow, which was around 7:20 am.
While waiting at my car for the flatbed, a CT State Trooper was about to drive past the Gulf station when he noticed me. He pulled up in front of my car, and I told him of my situation. Because the Exit 6 traffic was very busy, the trooper couldn't back his car up the Exit 6 ramp to get behind me for protection. So he put my license plate number into his PC (probably to find out if I was a convict; nope, just an idiot), and called the CT DOT to get them there to block off the road for my protection. Of course, our wonderful state-worker DOT guys never showed up, as they were probably busy getting donuts and shooting the breeze. The trooper didn't say a word about my Deutschland license plate after I told him that the number on the plate is my CT number. Phew! The trooper then left.
About 15 minutes later, another CT State Trooper pulls up behind my car coming down the Exit 6 off-ramp. I figured that it was the same trooper, but it was actually a different one. This trooper was surprised that the first trooper just left me there. I just shrugged my shoulders. Trooper Nr. 2 called his dispatch to find out if my tow was actually coming, and he was told that they were. At that point, it was about 8:15 am, two hours after I ran out of diesel.
Trooper Nr. 2 decided that he needed to get my Jetta out of harms way. Their cars have this bar and rubber system attached to the front. So after discussing it, he very slowly came up to my back bumper, I put my ignition to the "ON" position, took my foot off the brake, gave the trooper the thumbs up, and with lights and sirens blaring he pushed me across the street into the Gulf station. The nimrods in oncoming traffic didn't want to stop, even though the trooper had his lights and sirens going. It's definitely a "me first" society that we live in.
As soon as the trooper got me across the street, the flatbed tow truck showed up. Nice timing, buddy! I explained my predicament to the tow driver. He knew exactly what I was talking about when I indicated that I would have to prime the injection pump and injectors to get the car started. It turns out that his family lives in Portugal and they all drive diesels, so he knows all about them. The tow driver turned out to be a real decent guy, and we talked about the modifications to my Jetta all the way back to my home. Regular AAA pays for the first 4 miles of a tow, and then it's $4 per mile after that. The total trip was 10 miles, but this guy gave me a break and only charged me for 4 additional miles. Got home around 8:45 am, about $32 poorer.
Unfortunately, my wife was still home and had not left for work. She said that when I climbed out of the flatbed I was smiling. That's because I knew exactly what I was going to need to do when I got home from work later that afternoon to get my car started; mainly new battery and priming. I told her not to tell anyone, and predictably she indicated that she is going to tell everyone. D'oh! I should have used reverse psychology. Took the truck into work, and I was only 3 hours late. Fortunately, my job is flexible, and I only needed to work 5½ hours today. My supervisor wasn't even there today.
I bought a new battery, installed it, primed everything, and the TDI wheezed back to life with two fresh gallons in her tank.
Lesson learned: I won't be so trusting of the "orange light of love" anymore. When it turns on, I'll be filling up within a day's commute.
BTW, I apparently can't get 750 miles on a full tank with commuter driving. A long trip, no problem. But, not day-to-day driving.
