Back in the late '80s my stepdaughter had just learned to drive and we let her take the diesel Rabbit out for her teenage jaunts. One day the phone rang and she was frantic, telling me the Rabbit had just died for no apparent reason. I said, "Well, it's probably out of fuel." To which she answered, "No, I just filled it a minute ago." I said, "Where are you now?" She told me her location and after a moment I cringed, realizing (this being the '80s and diesel pumps much less common than now) that the only gas station in that neighborhood sold NO diesel. "Did you fill up at the xxx station?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. "Yes," she answered. "Uh, then you filled up with gasoline, not diesel," I told her. "Oh. . . .****," my stepdaughter said.
Boy did that cost me a pretty penny. I wonder if that old silver Rabbit is still running around somewhere down in Birmingham, Alabama, resurrected from the junk yard.