Restoration & Recycling

17 months ago, I encountered the noisome truth about this car's past.  I didn't want to deal with it, so I put it in the side yard and ignored it.

In the late summer heat, with the windows open, the odoriferous nature of my denial and procrastination came back to haunt me in my home.  My spouse promptly made it clear that this was unacceptable.  I had to do something, but I still wasn't ready to fully address the problem.  I had purchased a new replacement gas tank, and I didn't have the knowledge or the will to deal with the old one.  I put it in a thick plastic contractor's bag, taped it shut, and left it in the side yard.  The odor went away, and I was able to return to my denial.

Now the car is nearly complete.  It has over 2000 miles on it.  I get compliments wherever I go.  Everything is fine, right?

Well, my spouse hasn't forgotten about that nastiness in the side yard, and deep down I haven't either.  I've been putting off dealing with this unpleasantness.  I need to act to "clean up my past".  But how?
My city is pretty "green", and has a good reputation for dealing with household waste.  I call the city landfill, but they don't want the old gas tank because it has hazardous waste in it.  So I call the city hazardous waste disposal office.  They say that they will take the toxic sludge, but they can't take the tank.  They are sympathetic to the fact that it is caked on and extremely difficult to remove, but they can't take the tank.  Period.  They offer that perhaps a metal recycling place will take it, since the landfill won't.

Ok, I'll try to clean out the tank.  Let me be clear.  I really don't want to do this.  It's not going to be fun.  I've been avoiding it for a long time.  There are plenty of other things to do on the car that are much more fun!  But, I know that I need to.  I will submit, and be obedient to my conviction.

I start by removing the tank from the plastic bag, and cutting open the rusted top of the tank with tin snips.

 The 57 year old gasoline sludge is pretty amazing.  Probably the stinkiest stuff I have ever encountered.  A mix of the strongest rust smell you can imagine, sickeningly sweet stale gasoline,  with piquant motor oil overtones.  And this smell clings to everything!  Lacquer thinner smells like a rose in comparison.  Pictures do not do this justice! The stuff inside the tank is not really liquid... it's mostly syrup and chunky solids, about half and inch deep in the bottom of the tank.  There are some soft bits, but also some very hard dried rusted bits.  I use a hand scraper for about an hour, being very careful not to get any of this stuff on me.

I scoop out about half a gallon of the sludge, and realize that getting the rest out is really not possible.

OK, at least I tried.  The sludge can go to hazardous waste collection, along with my used motor oil and dried out paint.  I call the metal recycling place... they are open, and they say they will take the tank.  I put the tank on a layer of plastic and newspapers in the back of my wife's car, roll down all the windows, and drive to the recycling center.

Standing in line, the guy next to me says "that smells like an old car"!  Yup.  57 year old gasoline.  He jokes that it will only help fuel melting down the scrap steel... but I have my doubts.  I am amazed as the guy at the recycling center weighs the tank, prints me a receipt, and pays me $2.43.  I would be happy just to get rid of the thing, and he's giving me money!  He pays me with a $2 bill and change.  I haven't seen a $2 bill in over a decade! I take this as a blessing, God smiling on my work of redemption.

I keep the $2 as a token, and leave the .43 as a tip.  Yeah, I've never been a big tipper!  But somehow, this $2 seems special.  Something I should remember.

Even in the midst of my triumphs, I need to reassess my past.  What have I been neglecting?  Am I willing to have God reveal my denial?  Am I willing to do the work, even the unpleasant work, of turning over and recycling the residue I have left untouched in the side yard of my life?  I may not know how do do this, and I may need to ask for help.  I may look stupid and incompetent.  But, only I can make the choice to do this.  No one else can really do the work for me.

Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory, and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.

There are times when sobriety is still difficult for me.  It's in those times, when doing the right thing gets hard, that I need a little encouragement.  Like a $2 bill.