Chapter 46: Robbery on the Road

I called Aunt Karen to inform her of my plan and drove the Volkswagen back across the United States.

Ronald began to say goodbye to his good friends in Los Angeles, leaving his contact information for future connections.

The first was Cameron, who now lives half the time at the factory. Downstairs, he was giving orders to a group of stunt model creators who were older than him.

However, their expressions were quite convincing. Cameron impressed them with his skill and professional attitude.

Ronald asked for his email address and phone number. However, people in the film industry often move or stay with a group for a long time, so they have to ask for their hometown address. If you lose contact, you don't have to worry; you can still respond.

"Oh, I didn't know you were Canadian," Ronald was surprised.

"Yes, my hometown is across from Niagara Falls. Very close to the United States."

Then came Gail. She was still busy in the president's office as always.

"Gail Anne Hurd... Palm Springs, California." Ronald also wrote down Gail's address.

You might stay in New York for four years, so don't lose touch with old important friends.

"Have you been to Palm Springs?" Gail asked him.

"I haven't been there yet; I just know there's a golf tournament there."

"If you have the chance, welcome to my house; all the best, Ronald."

Palm Springs is a famous resort in California. It's an oasis in the desert with many springs and unique landscapes. All the rich people live there.

"Everything went well, Gale. Mr. Coleman was on set today; please say goodbye to him for me." The two hugged and said goodbye.

Next was Demi Moore. This girl is a bit unusual; maybe some director will appreciate her.

Instead of meeting her boyfriend at his apartment, Ronald hung up the phone.

"Hi. Demi, it's Ronald. I'm moving to New York for college. Give me your address, and we'll keep in touch."

"Oh, Ronald, that's fine... West Hollywood." Demi Moore gave the address of her boyfriend's apartment.

"Do you know what? I'm currently writing a song for my boyfriend, Freddie. He said my lyrics are good. You might hear the songs I write on the charts in the future."

"Really? I didn't expect you to have a talent for writing lyrics. Maybe I'll hear it on the radio in the future."

"Hehe. Ronald, don't you want to be a director? Why don't you stay in Hollywood and go to New York? Are there people making movies there?"

"Yes, there are people making movies in New York. I'll soon be going to New York University to study film and have the possibility of coming to Hollywood in the future."

"All the best, Ronald; don't forget me when you're a director in the future."

"No, Demi. It's all good for you too."

Then Ronald sold the television and went to the post office to register a forwarding address for the next six months.

In the next six months, if mail is sent to his rental address in Venice, the post office will automatically send it to Aunt Karen's house.

Finally, finishing up the trivial matters, Ronald took the cash and the cashier's check, packed the duffel bag his aunt had given him, and prepared to leave the next day.

This duffel bag was left by my uncle Steve, who died in the Vietnam War. It's very strong. It can hold many things and can be carried in the hand or on the back.

"Didi...didi."

Ronald, who left at 7 in the morning, waited in line at a gas station for half an hour, but the gas line was still not moving. He could only honk the horn and ask the guy in the car next to him.

"What's going on? Why are there such long lines at the gas station?"

"Today, even and odd cars will be rationed for refueling. Today is the 15th, and only odd-numbered cars can refuel."

"Damn, I have an even number," Ronald cursed silently.

The political crisis in Persia is escalating; protests organized by various forces have succeeded one after another, oil exports have stopped, international oil prices have skyrocketed, and gasoline prices have also risen increasingly.

Unexpectedly, California has implemented odd-even restrictions on refueling. The elderly man next to me told me that the government did this during the oil crisis in 1973.

Ronald was ready to turn the steering wheel, find a hotel to spend a night, and leave again tomorrow.

"Hey, if you have extra money, there's a way to get in line," the neighbor secretly told Ronald.

"What can I do? I originally planned to leave the city today. It would be great if I could refuel."

"As long as you buy a bottle of additives," the elderly man gave Ronald some scientific disclosure.

It turns out that even during the oil crisis six years ago, the then commander-in-chief ordered a price cap on gasoline. The American people have invented an unwritten rule.

If you need to wait in line, you can enter through the maintenance entrance of the gas station and pretend to buy a bottle of gasoline additive, and the gas station will fill it for you. It is considered private practice to circumvent the price limits.

"Oh, thanks, man. But why don't you go?"

"Hey, a bottle of additives costs 5.9 yuan, and I have to tip the repairman. I don't mind. My boss won't do anything to me if I arrive late for work."

Ronald knew it wasn't a big problem if it could be solved with money. I turned a corner and entered through the maintenance entrance of the gas station.

"I'll buy a bottle of gasoline additive and fill up the gas tank for myself," Ronald said in the lines his older brother taught him.

It really works. The maintenance man quickly took the bottle of additive and handed Ronald a separate gas refueling gun. All of them are equipment prepared during the last oil crisis.

Ronald smiled and gave a tip in dollars.

"Where's the bathroom? I'll go first."

After a while, Ronald came out of the bathroom and saw the mechanic pouring additives into the fuel tank.

"Hey, hey, I don't need that; just go ahead."

Perhaps the tip excited the mechanic too much, and he had already finished adding the additives.

Ronald, who arrived too late to stop him, took the gas nozzle and filled the gas tank himself.

"No additives are added; why buy them?" the technician asked with gestures.

"Hey, it turns out you don't understand the unwritten rules better than I do." Ronald saw the mechanic's immature face. It turned out he was Latino and spoke with a strong Spanish accent.

He gestured with his hand and stepped on the accelerator, pulled the car out of the maintenance area, expressed his gratitude to the elderly man who gave him the advice, then hit the road and moved on.

This time, instead of taking Route 40, Ronald planned to take the northern route to Yosemite National Park and experience the beauty of the northern state.

Ronald turned onto Highway 1, which is a coastal road with beautiful scenery along the way. There are sea lions and ancient castles that look very historical.

The most beautiful may be the beach. The beaches here are all private properties and are known as the most beautiful on the west coast of America.

Outside the mansions, there are white sand beaches. On some beaches, horses stroll, and the various charming hostesses make people stop.

As he drove and admired the scenery, Ronald drove very slowly without realizing it and did not cover 5 miles in half an hour. It was an uphill climb, and Ronald stepped on the accelerator.

The car began to wheeze and tremble, not knowing what was happening. It seemed that something was wrong the more he drove, and black smoke began to come out of the exhaust.

Just as the car passed in front of a mansion on the beach, Ronald shouted to the hostess through the fence, "Ma'am! Where is the nearest machine repair shop?"

The hostess, who was wearing a red one-piece bathing suit, turned her head and expressed her displeasure because Ronald called her ma'am.

She raised her arm and pointed to a small fork on the opposite side of the road. Ronald quickly turned the steering wheel and drove slowly in low gear.

"What did you put in the gas tank?" asked the young white mechanic.

"I've never added anything but gasoline... Oh, no, the gas station gave me a bottle of additive this morning."

"Additive? Is the bottle still there?"

"Here," Ronald quickly found the empty bottle in the car; there was still a little left in it.

"Use diesel fuel," the mechanic pointed to the words on the bottle and looked at Ronald, "This is for diesel."

"Damn, that bastard at the gas station must not know English."

The mechanic sniffed the liquid again and said, "It doesn't seem to smell like diesel additives. I don't know what it contains. It's an old bottle filled with other things."

Is this intentional? No wonder I put it in the gas tank while I was in the bathroom. What's the difference between that little bastard and those people who throw nails on the ground for you to patch tires? This is pure robbery on the road.

"The combustion chamber is damaged, and the carbon deposits are a bit serious. I'm afraid it will require major surgery," said the older mechanic next to him, who seemed to be the father of the young one.

"How long will it take, and how much will it cost?"

"This requires a machine repair station, and you have to wait in line for a day. It's not cheap; it will cost you 300 dollars."

"$300? This is robbery on the road. I just bought this car for $900."

The young mechanic shrugged and said there was nothing he could do.

"Or you can sell me this car, and I'll pay you 400

 yuan," said my father, the mechanic.

"500?"

"450."

Okay, just 450, but you have to send me back to Los Angeles.

This is the first time I write a book, so I listened to everyone's opinions as readers. In the second volume, I will continue learning and improving, and I will strive to write a more compact rhythm and a more engaging plot. Today are the last two chapters of the first volume, published all at once in the morning; thanks to everyone.

End of the chapter