Stocking the Trail

I just came home tonight after filling up our Moncure, Pittsboro, and Raleigh locations.  Each one of them had run out of fuel.

Paul called from the lab around 5:00 to release our first product of the year from the terminal. Starting a delivery shift at dusk on a wintry Friday night had low appeal.  I was discharging on the subject when I backed the truck into the terminal to do the first pull of the evening.  Paul was there.  “Someone might thank you for this,” he said, remarking that he was below a quarter of a tank and would need a fill this weekend.

My first drop was in Moncure.  We keep that tank at B100 year round.  That’s what the Moncure users want.  I’m conflicted on the topic.  Sometimes I think they are a bunch of weirdos. And sometimes I admire their conviction.  Whenever I fill up in Moncure I am one of the users worthy of admiration.

From Moncure I returned to the terminal.  It was cold and dark and our terminal is not lit.  Rats.  Another night with the flash light in my mouth.  Refilling the truck with bio was a snap—I could probably do that with my eyes closed.  This time of year we adulterate most of our locations to B80, which meant I had to figure out the petroleum part.

That meant jump starting our aged short truck that is packed with dino diesel and topping off the load.  I got a hand from Mike who was at the plant late tending his tilapia project.  He kept an eye on the antique auto shutoff down below while I filled from the top.

I filled the Pittsboro tank with B80 and headed into the night toward Raleigh.  And a funny thing happened on the way.  The truck radio is dead (again), but I found some ear buds and snapped in a playlist from my phone.  It had been a long day, and I was zoning out to my usual roots rock favorites as I sped across the lake.  I started thinking about the creation of the B100 Community Trail and of all the drivers that had gone before me.

Driving for Piedmont has included a number of adventures.  We’ve had clogged fuel filters and tow trucks and blowouts and a roadside fire.  Many people have hauled various loads, from used cooking oil to reactors and tanks to fuel to our mega heavy Clean Technology Trailer across many nights.  We’ve used company trucks and personal trucks and trailers of all descriptions.

So instead of feeling “hard done by” I felt like I was merely carrying on a rich tradition.  And I thought of all those members on “empty” that were waiting for the tanks to be filled again.  It was humbling.

It’s why we came.

Last night at the Plant we had a “State of the Bubble” meeting.  Those from Piedmont in attendance kept mentioning “meaningful work.”  It struck me that nothing is more meaningful than filling tanks on the trail.  A lot of people worked really hard to deliver this batch of perfect fuel to the terminal.  It seemed like a little thing to move it out of the terminal and into the world.

I’m guessing a lot of us went to the  Mayor’s house tonight for Mary’s going away party.  It was on my list, but by the time I got back to the plant I had been banged about by the hose a few times and was ensconced in that “late day biodiesel film” that demands a shower and some high quality soap.

I parked the truck, returned the flashlight to the lab, put the distribution clipboard in its place by McCayne’s desk, hung the keys in the key locker and headed for my car.  The moment after I fired it up the “low fuel” bell rang and I was reminded that like so many others, I too was wishing the fuel was flowing.

I pulled over to the Pittsboro dispenser and put 13.8 gallons into my 14 gallon tank.  It was one last reminder of how grateful I am that the Trail is stocked again…