The Fire Hazards of Working with Gasoline
Very Close
The gas can should have been almost full, so, like I had done a hundred times before, I reached down and pulled the funnel, with gas still running through it, up slightly, to check the level in the can. The flames licked out around the funnel from the fuel can, and I felt the oily heat. The next few seconds are not clear, to me. I know I panicked, though, and tried to move the gas can away from the truck. The next thing I remember clearly was being up on the dirt cut-bank, with my lower leg on fire.
I had needed to empty the gas tank on my hunting truck. It was apparently full of rust flakes, again, and the truck wouldn't run when switched to it, it couldn't get enough fuel. I had tried to get it to siphon, but had no luck. I looked at disconnecting the line to the front out of the tank, but it would be hard to do. Well, I had drained it from the drain plug before, so would try it again. I had rolled the truck out of the garage, but the tailgate was nearly against the cut bank across from the garage. Still, I had enough room to work. Our daily driver was next to it, with about six feet between them, where I would be working. Next I shooed the kids out of the truck where they had been playing while I set up, and asked my wife to get the extinguisher from the kitchen. With so much gasoline out, I wanted something "just in case". While she was gone, I set a white plastic bucket under the drain plug and pulled it. She came over and set the extinguisher down next to me and I said, "No, the extinguisher is for you, cause if this goes up, I'll be in the middle of it, and you'll need to come put me out". I didn't realize how not funny the joke would be in a minute. I moved the extinguisher back, though, so it wouldn't be in the middle of the disaster.
The first bucket filled up, so I swapped the second bucket under the plug, and carried the full one over to the UL rated plastic fuel can. I put the plastic, but UL rated and electrically conductive, fuel funnel into the can, poured most of the five-gallon bucket into the can, and tried to check the level in the can. Then life got scary.
I'm not sure how I got the fuel can and funnel over to the bank while they were on fire, but I did, somehow. Even stranger, the five-gallon bucket ended up there, too. My wife saw the whole thing happen, and thinks I may have kicked it, which would explain the burning gasoline on my leg. Somehow I ended up above the conflagration, on the bank, trying to put out my leg. I tried rolling it out on the ground, but my foot was in the way, and rolling it on the gravel didn't really help. I tried slapping it out with my hand, but that didn't work either, and it was getting hot. I started to panic. My wife said I was yelling "extinguisher, extinguisher!". She said she couldn't get the fire extinguisher to work. I needed to try something else, and screamed at her to get a blanket while I eyed the garden hose, twenty feet away. I didn't want to run over there, but wanted to get there very badly just the same, so I flopped and rolled my way there. My wife got there about the same time. Somewhere in there she claims she clubbed me with the fire extinguisher, accidentally, but I don't remember it. Just about the time we got to the garden hose, I noticed my coveralls were no longer burning, just my shoe, so I kicked it off, and suddenly I was no longer on fire.
I picked up the extinguisher my wife had abandoned, pushed the button, and was rewarded with a jet of purple K. Then I ran around to where the gasoline was burning, between the two trucks, an area about four by four feet total, on fire, and put it out with about half of a kitchen fire extinguisher. The fuel was still running out of the tank on my hunting truck into the white plastic bucket, and with flames less than four feet away, it had not caught. I nervously put the drain plug back in the tank, tightened it with pliers, and stood back and really appreciated breathing for the first time in a long time.
The burn on my leg is about four inches tall, and covers from just inside the center of my shin, to around to the back of my calf, perhaps ten to fifteen square inches. I was wearing an old pair of nomex coveralls I had retired from wearing at my day job, because they were pretty ratty, but still wore them working on the cars and stuff. My shoe was leather, so it got a little crusty, but didn't burn through. The burn on my leg is just from burning gasoline, no clothing actually burned, and so it is not very deep, and should heal ok. Still, I have to go and get it scrubbed every day for a while...no fun at all, really.
I know the white plastic buckets were a bad idea, they were what worried me in the first place about the operation, and why I had the extinguisher. The fact of the static spark coming from between the UL rated fuel can and the UL rated and conductive funnel still amazes me. I think the fuel must have picked up a lot of static charge, pouring into the plastic buckets. It should have grounded safely, though, once it reached the funnel, through the fuel can, which was sitting on the ground. I had thought the plastic in the cans was treated to be conductive. Anyway, my fueling practices have changed. From now on, my fuel cans are metal. Everything is bonded and grounded, and there will be a fire extinguisher on hand even for simple fuel transfers. We will also have extinguisher training for the family. So what if I have to buy another extinguisher.
I have always heard three strikes and you're out. I got two that day, white plastic buckets, and no bonding straps. My wife and I think we kept about a dozen guardian angels frantically busy for a few minutes. I'd like to give them a break, for a while. They deserve it.
