In the following tale, all names, save mine, are omitted to protect the innocent, the suspicious, and the embarrassed.

I enjoy working on Volvo 122s in my spare time. I always learn something new, and I can make some spare change once in a while. My favorite method is when the car is dropped off, left for a bit, and picked up later. I have no worry about not having the correct tool on hand, or explaining my unique approach. Sometimes a fellow Amazon owner will have a patient that just will not start up, and I'll have to think about the correct tools, then head for their house.

Recently, a friend of mine had just such trouble. He usually gets along really well without my help, as he possesses good mechanical skills and is not intimidated by the relatively simple layout of the Amazon. After many phone calls and e-mail troubleshooting, it was decided that I would pay him a visit.

His fuel gauge is less than accurate, and it seems that he'd run the car out of gas a few blocks from his house. After a jog home for the gas can and a subsequent jog to the local filling station (followed, of course, by yet another jog back to the car), the Amazon was up and running again. But alas, it died again on the slight incline up his street. After a short tow, it rested comfortably in his garage, but would still not run. On the phone he told me it was getting spark, but could that slight incline with so little fuel in the tank have anything to do with it? I told him that I thought it was impossible, but he might want to check the pump and the filter. He changed the filter and reported that he could see it had filled up, not real sure what's going on, could I come over?

I arrived at 7 p.m. on a chilly winter night, and thought maybe the first thing I'd check would be the carburetor chokes. SUs won't start a car on a night like that without working chokes.

Chokes? Fine.

Points gapped? Yeah.

Timing light reacts to each spark plug wire? Yes.

Spark plugs fouled? No.

Okay, I wanna see gasoline spurting out of this line, right here, on this carb.

After finding an old plastic bottle to catch fuel, he cranked the key while I held the hose. Hmmm... that's a funny color, funny smell too. We decided that this did not look like gasoline, and we should get a cleaner container to better inspect it. He came back with a clear glass jar and we repeated the fuel sampling process.

While extracting the second sample, a metamorphosis had occurred in the bottle on the counter. The liquid had divided into two layers, dark and golden on the bottom and almost clear on the top. Water!... or something. We wanted to see what would happen with the new sample, and we were also positive that the jar was uncontaminated before beginning. Sure enough, same thing.

"I think you got some bad gas, or some terrible leak in the trunk is getting to the tank," I said.

"It hasn't rained and this thing is always in the garage," he replied.

I swirled the jar and held it to my nose. "Well, it has something in it. I know this smell and it's not good, what do you think?"

"It smells like... Oh, man..." he moaned. "A few weeks ago a friend of mine desperately needed a place to stay overnight, so I let him sleep in the garage. He's just the kinda guy... Aw man, I think he mighta peed in my gas can..."

"That's what I thought it smelled like, too. Was there anything in the can on the way to the station?" I asked.

"Yeah, a bit."

"Eeeeew," we sang in unison.

After draining the tank (have I mentioned "Eeeeew?") and a thorough wash up, we were off to the local filling station. The car started up just fine with a better diet, the former being rather cruel and unusual punishment, in my opinion. My Amazon prefers Supreme.

I know, you're wondering what happened to the bucket of contaminated fuel. I'm wondering what he's gonna do with it too. No, actually I prefer not to think about it -- I'm gonna go wash up again.