Sunday, Day 2, Part III

So what's this crazy idea called a Newman Tank? We pulled back into the Shell station and popped the hood.

The grand idea was to place a small container inside the engine compartment next to the engine itself. We'd run the fuel hoses into the container, and fill the container with fry oil. This way, the heat inside the engine compartment would keep the fry oil inside the container warm.



"A fuel tank within the engine compartment with constant heat from the engine..."

At that point in time, the sun was setting, the wind chill was bringing the temperature lower and lower, we were almost shivering, any idea that could get us there faster was grand...

So immediately, Dad got right on it. Unfortunately, earlier in the race, we had recycled all the small containers that we subsequently emptied, but we luckily saved one... After rummaging around in the trunk, we found a container among the junk food and camping gear. It was a Kirkland Brand "Newman's Own" Grape Juice container, held about three quarts. It wasn't the best thing we could've used, but it was all we had.

So Dad then cut the fuel lines, plugged the ends leading back to the tank with pencils, and put the ends leading to the engine inside the grape juice container. We then tied everything down with zip-ties and filled up the container.

And voilá, the finished Newman Tank.

After a moment of silent prayers, we hooked up the jumper cables and started the Merc. It took a few tries, but by golly the engine started! And he ran like his old self too. The oil was getting warmed up, and the engine ran it just fine. Finally, with our morale boosted, we headed off to Lee Vining, a town nearby Mono Lake, as they might have auto parts.

Now, Lee Vining was over thirty miles away, and there were several hills to climb over to get there. And that accentuated the only major flaw the Newman Tank had, a 3 quart capacity. With three quarts, the Merc and his two-ton weight could only go about 12 miles on a flat grade before refilling. When going up a steep hill, it halved to about five or six miles.

In our first run, we made it five miles up the hill before the engine coughed and conked out. So we had to get out, pop the hood, stick a funnel into the container, pour in oil from one of our five gallon jugs; remove the funnel, oil rags, and anything else that shouldn't be there, shut the hood, put away the oil and any other miscellaneous items, get in the car, and go . . . Our first refueling stop took more than five minutes, not exactly Indy 500 pitstop material.

But we made it to the top of the hill. Luckily, with hills, there's usually another side to them, and that side is where you go downhill.

We went almost twenty miles on one tankful because we set the car in neutral and let the force of momentum carry our two-ton weight down the hill at 65 mph(we probably could've gotten up to 80 mph, but we didn't need a speeding ticket in our present situation).

Finally, after a few more refueling stops, we made it to Lee Vining. By then, it was after dark.

Unfortunately, the garage at the nearby Shell station was closed, and the nearest auto parts stores were further along in Mammoth Lakes, another 30 miles away, or 60 miles back in the direction of Bridgeport. We then ultimately decided that we wouldn't make it to the campsite at Lone Pine anytime soon, and that we should spend the night here. Thankfully Scott, the photo journalist, was a good sport about it and accepted it as it was.

So we went from motel to motel, looking for lodging for five people. To our luck, the Gateway Motel had a family suite open. After freezing our butts off in the mountains the previous night, anything with a roof and a bed would have sufficed.

Scott, the pack-mule.


Deciding our next course of action.

Ultimately, our decided next course of action was to get a warm plate of food. And what better place than Nicely's Diner across the street.

After our stomachs were full, we returned to the motel room. We got a call from Jake saying that Shannon and the Kristie's Flyer were staying at a campsite just down the street! This was good for Scott, as he now had a reliable transport to catch up with the remaining competitors.

So with our plans made, we turned in for a blessed nights sleep on a soft bed.