Re: Berlina tank

[Scott Fisher <sfisher71@domain.elided>]

--- Norm Riffle <normriff@domain.elided> wrote:
> 
>     Oh yeah, has anyone actually put 12 gallons of
> fuel in the 12 gallon tank?

The largest single fill-up I've ever made in my '74
Spider happened to be yesterday's stop in Grants Pass,
Oregon: 10.21 gallons.  The previous stop was in
Willows, CA, several hours before and (according to
MapQuest) 253 miles south, for 24.78 mpg.  This was in
a 4.56:1 rear axle 1974 Spider (stock Spica injection
and U.S. cams) on 185/60HR-14 tires, with a
significant portion of the journey spent climbing the
passes at Mt. Shasta and in the Siskiyous, at the
California-Oregon border.  

Normally I manage the gas situation to keep my
fill-ups below 10 gallons, even on long trips.  On the
Spider this is assisted by the later-model gauge,
which has a low-fuel warning light.  Whether as a
feature of the car or as some interaction between the
sending unit of the '74 and the gauge (from whatever
year the previous owner used to source the crack-free
dash and its instruments), the gas gauge in my Spider
seems to indicate as follows:

From full to the 1/2 mark takes about 4 gallons.

From the 1/2 mark to the 0 mark takes about another 4
gallons.

During the last few miles before it gets to the 0
mark, the low-fuel light begins to flicker; when it
stops flickering and glows constantly, experience
shows I can fit about 8 gallons in the tank, so I try
to fill up within 20-30 miles of the starting of the
constant glow.

Whether this is designed into the system or (as I say)
an artifact of the differences in years, I don't know.
 However, it does make for a useful and valuable aid
to managing fuel stops, especially on long trips such
as last week's Portland-San Francisco round trip.

The weather, by the way, was stunning the entire trip
-- clear and cloudless (if COLD after dusk last night,
about the time I was near Albany, Oregon).  The almond
orchards near Winters, California were intoxicating;
I'd never driven top-down through an almond orchard in
full bloom before, with the heady aroma of marzipan
laced with jasmine filling the car.  There's a stretch
from about Roseburg during which it seems as though
you drive through a succession of valleys, each one
more beautiful than the one before it, until you cross
the coastal fork of the Willamette River near Eugene
and enter the broad, fertile plains of the Willamette
River Valley.  The mountains mostly recede into the
distance, the sky opens up overhead, and the road is
predominantly straight (sad to say) for most of the
journey home.  Only after Salem, on the approaches
into Aurora and Donald just south of Wilsonville, do
the hills encroach on the highway again, but by then
I'm nearly home, the firs and maples are my friends
and neighbors, and the final crossing of the
Willamette means a spot in the garage for the Spider
and a glass of wine at day's end for me.

--Scott Fisher
  Tualatin, Oregon
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