Running on fumes

Coming home from Torrevieja on Saturday night the fuel warning light came on on the car. Seventy kilometres of fuel left. Fair enough, we were near the coast, which is pretty built up, and we were on a motorway where there were service stations before our turn off.

Even though the sign on the road said the services were open from 0 hrs. to 24 hrs it was obvious, as we pulled onto the forecourt, that the garage was closed. The pump had a bank card payment facility but it wasn't working. Error message - software failure.

Whilst I dithered about what to do next a man, who had been shouting into his mobile phone in a rather disconcerting way, came over and asked if he could use my phone. His accent was a bit working bloke and it took us a while to tune in to his accent and forthright style. Basically, his car was old and it had lost all its lights. He was unable to continue his journey back to Albacete, about 170kms away, with his wife and kids on board. He'd been trying to phone his insurance company to get either a mechanic or a tow truck but his phone was refusing to work with the 902 number. 902 numbers are those non geographic numbers used by companies and organisations so you don't know where you're phoning - like the 0345 numbers in the UK. They are sometimes not included in call packages. On mobile phones especially they can end up adding a lot to your bill, or eating up your pay as you go credit, as you listen to tiddly pom music, get told about busy operators and how important your call is.

I suspected some sort of ruse from Mr Albacete so, rather than handing over my phone and him running off with it or surreptitiously phoning a sex line in Rwanda, I let him use the hands free inside the car. In the end it turned out to be an absolutely genuine call from a man having a much worse evening than us. As we drove away, he asked that God be kind to us for our generosity.

The Almighty didn't seem to be on hand to help with the fuel problem though. Petrol stations in Spain tend to close at 10pm. There used to be ones with night windows, there may still be, but I suspect that nowadays the tendency is to have a card reader instead. It's been a while since I last needed to refuel at night. We're old you know. We stay at home with cocoa.

We were closeish to Elche and I know that city well enough to know the location of quite a few petrol stations. Big petrol stations. The one in the supermarket said 24 hrs. on the sign. The card reader said it couldn't read my card. The second was closed, the third was behind a system of labyrinthine one way roads that had us going round in circles for ten to fifteen minutes before I gave up. We drove to an industrial estate with more petrol stations. The dashboard display now said we were good for only another 15 kms. I presume the system tends to pessimism but it was, nonetheless, a little worrying. Another big and busy Repsol station was closed as we passed but there were lights on at one of the cheap garages on a service road. And the pump was happy to accept my credit card.

The usual system with credit card pumps, when you want a full tank, is to tap in a higher figure than the value of fuel you expect to need. When you're done the credit card and pump talk to each other and refund the difference. My receipt says something like 70€ credit, 48,33€ served. Just what I'd expect. At the moment though my credit card account shows that I paid 118,33€ for the fuel. I'm sure the refund will come but somehow it seemed like the perfect end to a simple and routine journey home.