Gasoline

A neighbor buys, restores, and resells classic cars and trucks, routinely cycling between different models that sit on our block for days at a time. The latest, a ‘77 Chevy Bonanza, sat outside the apartment three days when a passing couple noticed the street beneath coated in gasoline.

Within thirty minutes, the smell permeated the apartment. I had been cooking and thought I sprung a gas leak on the stove. Before I had a chance to call, a fire truck pulled up outside, and five men inspected the truck. Deeming it insignificant, they shoveled sand beneath the tank to soak up the oil. When the owner came by the next day, he commented on the dirt, but did not attempt to start the truck.