Here’s the extended story on how I essentially paid $276 for what could’ve easily been prevented with a $30 tank of gas:
By early last night, I still had a nasty crick in my neck (the same one that’s kept me at home for the previous two work days), so I decided to go back to my old jujitsu dojo to get some massage and chiropractic work done by a former classmate. After dinner I headed out to catch the tail end of the evening class. According to Google maps, my destination was 40.6 miles and a good 46 minutes away. Had I thought about that harder, I should’ve just concluded that I didn’t have enough time to get there and decided to stay home (which would’ve resulted in a lamer, but way less expensive, story).
Whenever I get in my Prius and turn it on, I get a cool little display that tells me useful information like my average Miles Per Gallon and the number of miles I have driven on this tank of gas. Since the specifications for the car state that the gas tank has a capacity of 11.9 gallons, it seems pretty basic to see that I can get at least (MPG * 10 gallons) miles on a tank before I’m close to needing to fill up (with a good 1.9 gallons to spare).
So, when I got in my car tonight and saw the display read 51.5 MPG and 485 miles on the tank, I figured I could easily get over the San Mateo Bridge before I needed to fill up, and in fact I might even be able to get gas after the massage (as I often tap into the remaining 1.9 gallons of remaining gas). Sure, the Add Fuel indicator turned on, as it always faithfully does after about 9 gallons of fuel consumption, but after having driven the Prius for over 80000 miles, I was pretty sure I had I good idea when it really needed a pit stop. So off I went toward Redwood City, bypassing Shells and Chevrons and Valeros by the dozens with reckless abandon. (The photo is from a roadtrip with my brother in 2006, when we were smart and actually filled up before running out of gas.)
Everything was fine until Mile 504. I was on 880 South and was approaching the 92 junction when suddenly I saw the following very disturbing symbols light up all over my dashboard accompanied by a very disturbing beep tone.
The Check Engine Malfunction Indicator Light:
The Maintenance Required Light:
The Vehicle Stability Control Warning Light:
The Hybrid System Warning Light:
And finally, in case I wasn’t scared yet, the Master Warning Light:
Oh, and the main display screen also had a very succinct and carefully-worded message to explain the situation to me. It reported matter-of-factly, “Problem”.
Okay, this next part of my story is a bit blurry in my mind. As all the indicators lit up, I found myself involuntarily slowing down in the middle of traffic, but honestly I’m not sure if the car truly started losing power on its own or if my feet just completely let up from the gas pedal because I was so shocked by the barrage of warning lights. My car slowly coasted over to the right shoulder of the freeway, and I came to a stop on the gravel patch between the slow lane and the merging onramp.
It was very distracting to sit in the car and try to think clearly as cars zoomed past, making my little car rock back and forth in the slipstream, and evoking uncomforting visions of crazy people rear-ending me without warning. I took off my seatbelt at first, but then thought better of it, and put it back on while simultaneously mumbling a desperate prayer that I wouldn’t end up as tomorrow’s roadkill news.
I called AAA. I gave the operator my account number, but the background noise on her end was very loud (I could hear about 4 other AAA transactions happening in the call center), and she had trouble hearing just about every other thing I said. Then she told me my account was no longer active, which was pretty surprising considering I haven’t even had it for a year. Anyway, I gave her my whereabouts, and she said she’d send somebody, or at least that’s what I heard. I said OK and we hung up. I sat in the dark as cars continued to zoom past, and found myself praying again that this would resolve quickly and ideally not in an untimely death.
About 30 seconds after we hung up, a call came in on my cell phone from a random phone number. I picked it up, and it was the tow truck driver. Strangely, his first question was, “Did you just cancel your request?” Uh, no, I didn’t… “Hmm, yeah, that’s funny. The record here says you just cancelled the request.” I confirmed again that I definitely needed some attention. “Okay, yeah, it didn’t seem like you were moving yet…” And within the next few seconds I heard the tow truck pull up from behind me. Seriously, he arrived on the scene faster than the noodles from TK Noodle. That’s pretty freakin’ fast. And thank God he paid no attention to the cancel request.
He looked in through my passenger window. “Did you try restarting the car yet?” Well, yes, that would be an obvious thing to try, now wouldn’t it? I obliged, and the “Add Fuel” message came on, accompanied by all his indicator light friends. I suggested maybe I needed some gas… “Well, you are entitled to 3 gallons,” he told me. He had me open the gas tank door and he poured in some fuel. He had me try the restart again. “Did the idiot lights turn off?” (Please please please.) Nope. No change. “Well, what will it be? Do you want to be towed somewhere?” the driver asked. Doh, I was almost exactly 20 miles from both Redwood City and Emeryville, and I was pretty sure this was going to cost extra. Sigh… what choice did I have? “Take me home,” I told the driver with resignation. “Guess I’ll have to take this into the shop tomorrow.” On the bright side, God mercifully let me fail before I got onto the San Mateo Bridge. Stalling on the bridge would’ve sucked.
The driver eventually finished loading up my car and we headed toward Emeryville. It bugged me that I had no idea what was wrong, and that I’d probably have to get it taken in to the shop to find out. For some reason, the driver checked something on his display and informed me that the gas wasn’t free after all, since it was determined that I’m not actually a AAA Plus member. (They previously thought I was a Frank So-and-So over the phone, and he had a Plus membership.) Doh, that’s $12 for 3 gallons of gas. Oh well, I guess that’s almost normal. Then he also informed me that only the first 5 miles are free for Basic members. Each subsequent mile is $12/mile. DOH!! I thought about having him just take me to the closest gas station so I could fill up and try again, but since the car didn’t respond to the 3 gallons he put in, what could I expect from a full tank? Sigh, I decided to just eat the cost and had him take me all the way back to Emeryville. I just wanted to go home.
We eventually pull in front of my apartment and he has me sign all this paperwork and pay for the very expensive ride home. He loosened the rigging and then said, “I’ll let you drive it off the ramp” with an air of knowing confidence. Perhaps he thought all the “idiot lights” would surely have turned off by now, and in fact that’s what I hoped too, so I was eager to get in the driver’s seat and try. Arg, they were still there. I backed off the ramp and parked the car and he drove away anti-climactically.
I went upstairs to fill in Steph on the situation and already began planning out the repair schedule for the next day. But I was still curious about what exactly happened, so I dug into a couple of Prius forums to see what other people’s experiences were with these scary-looking indicator lights. Frustratingly, people’s experiences with running out of gas in a hybrid did not seem to follow a particularly consistent pattern, so I finally decided I needed to try one more thing before giving up for the night. I marched back downstairs, intent on driving the car down the block to get a full tank of gas.
And what do you know, by the time I started the car this time, all the indicator lights had turned off on their own, except the Add Fuel indicator, in case I had forgotten. I filled up for $30 at Shell and that was the end of it. I went straight to work this morning and it was fine. I basically just got a $276 tank of gas (and no massage). How’s that for fuel economy?
So what’s the moral of this long-winded story? Feel free to post your interpretation and your own gas stories! =]
