Yesterday, I went for a ride in the teener. I came home and pulled the car into the garage. When I got out of the car I was hit in the face with the strong smell of gasoline. My first thought was, Oh no!! a fuel leak!"
I popped the engine lid and looked around. I didn't see any fuel anywhere. (Some background on my car: I bought it in November and went through it over the winter replacing things that wear out including the fuel lines, but I didn't replace the hard plastic lines or the lines that go from the fuel runners to the injectors). OK so now I think it must be leaking from underneath the car. The dreaded thought of the work involved in replacing the plastic lines was mixed with the relief that I got the car home and parked before it burned to the ground out on the road somewhere (I do have a fire extinguisher mounted in the car). Well, anywho I was so freaked out about the close call that I decided to put off looking for the leak until later. That night at dinner, my wife syas to me, "Oh I was filling the lawnmower with gas in the garage today and I spilled a bunch of gas by where you park your car. I cleaned it up with rags and threw them away." I leaned over and gave her a big kiss. She says, "What's that for?" I told her it was for spilling gas, then proceeded to tell her the story of how I thought my teener narrowly averted a firey death.
I hope you live in an apartment complex with a dumpster, cause if they are in your trash can by your house. Well, you could still burn your 914 when they spontanously combust and burn your house down. Really, I'd want to find out where "away" actually is right now.
