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Its happened to me a few times. The first was when I borrowed my Dad’s car, a red Vauxhall Viva to take my friends on a ride to the beach. We were all in excited about finishing our A-levels and I’d also only just passed my driving test so I was both excited and nervous about the prospect of being an independent driver.
My friends were just as excited about being chaperoned and we all sped off towards the coast, singing pop songs with the radio blaring and the windows down.

Before I’d left, my father had shown me how to use his car making me assure him that I’d take care and drive safely etc. In my excitement I’d failed to ask about fuel, assuming, as a typical self centred eighteen year old, that the car ran on air.
We’d picked up some fish and chips on the way and after several abortive attempts, managed to park near the beach. It was a great day out with lot’s of laughter, a bunch of friends sitting on the beach, excited about leaving school and launching ourselves into the world.

As the sun was going down, I looked at the time and realised that my car curfew was almost up; I’d promised to get it back to my Dad by 9pm. We piled in and as I turned the ignition, the red fuel light flashed indicating the need to fill up. I nervously found my way to the nearest petrol station, realising quite quickly that as the designated driver, with my friends, who were chattering distractedly around me, that I was very alone in this task.

Pulling up to the pumps, I was a bit nervous about what to do, but having watched my parents do this regularly for years, I didn’t think there was that much to it. Without thinking about it I took the nearest hose and filled up the tank with £10 worth of fuel.
Turning the engine back on, I began to drive back, but after a few miles, the car started to surge and cough until the engine slowed down and eventually cut out completely. My excitable friends suddenly went very quiet and we all just looked at each other in disbelief. After managing to get hold of my Dad and sheepishly explaining our situation, he asked what petrol I’d put in the car.

I told him that it I wasn’t sure, I thought they were all the same, there was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone. I think my Dad was in shock.
Suffice to say, after a lot of upheaval, the car needing to be towed and remaining out of action for days in the garage, it transpired that I’d done a very dangerous thing by putting diesel in a petrol engine and without companies like Wrong Fuel Angels to come and rescue the situation quickly and efficiently, it would have saved a lot of anxiety and stress.

For more information on wrong fuel recovery contact Wrong Fuel Angels today or visit us online.

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