Date:         Thu, 28 Feb 2002 09:18:35 EST
Reply-To:     JKrevnov@AOL.COM
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From:         Rico Sapolich <JKrevnov@AOL.COM>
Subject:      Need More Gas? How I Got Gassed
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In 1973 I sold my Z28 and plopped my butt into a Simca 1204.  I still am
trying to figure out what provoked me to do that.  Although the 1204 was as
slow as some of the characters in the movie "Deliverance", its comfortable
seats and miserly gas consumption redeemed it.  It got 34 MPG which was
generally unheard of in the USA in 1973.  And, it was a bit of good fortune
to be driving such a car when the Gas Crisis hit.  The only drawback was the
limited capacity of its gas tank; I may be wrong, but the figure 9.8 Gal.
comes to mind.  Whatever it was, it was not much.

After waiting in line a couple of times, I decided that I had enough of that
BS and I was going to do something about it.  I went to a junkyard near DC
which dismantled the junkers and stored their wares on racks like a Sam's
Club of automobilia.  In short order I found a larger gas tank with Simca
1204 written all over it.  It had come from a late model Mustang and could
hold 22 Gal.  Since it was nearly rectilinear and without any unnecessary c
onvolutions, it almost mounted itself to the Simca.

The pleasure I felt the first time I saw that car suck up 20 Gal. of low
octane was not even diminished when I noticed that the ass end sat
perceptibly lower after the fill up.  I drove around in the bliss of filling
up less than twice a month until I had a thought provoking conversation with
a fellow at work.  The guy was an engineer's engineer who had spent several
summers of his school years working in R and D at AMC (for you youngin's,
that's American Motors Corporation).  When he told me he had just bought a
Citroen 504 Diesel, I boasted of my own clever way around the Gas Crisis.  He
heard me out then asked if I had considered what would happen if I were ever
ass-ended.  Immediately my mind went to the Simca's odd kidney shaped tank
with the spare tire mounted under the car between the tank and the rear
bumper.  Maybe it wasn't just that the Simca designers couldn't figure a
better way to accommodate the spare.

I wish I could say that I rushed right out and removed the Mustang tank, but
I was too smitten with the lust for gas for that.  I can say that I never got
into that car again without thinking of my buddy's grim prophecy and that I
spent more than a few moments in sheer terror while stopped at traffic lights.

My advice to anyone planning to roll their own fuel capacity enhancement: if
you want to pump up your forearms by gripping the steering wheel
occasionally, go for it.  You could end up looking like Popeye.

Rich