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It's the People
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Oil Follies
Sam Aurelius Milam III While I was considering Jim Sullivan's article (Over a Barrel, October 2005, page 3), I got to thinking about some of my own past experiences in oil disposal. I don't remember how my father disposed of used engine oil when I was a kid. I don't even remember what I did with it myself while I was in college. However, by the middle or late 70s recycling was available to people who wanted to do it. That was back before government interference made recycling so inconvenient that the free recycling movement died a slow and painful death. This article is about one example of such interference. Back then, cars weren't the technological monstrosities that they are today. A man could do most of the repairs and maintenance on his own car. Once, as a family story goes, my grandfather disassembled and repaired the transmission beside the highway. It seems unlikely, but my Aunt Isabelle says that it's probably a true story. Her father did that sort of thing. I needed several tool boxes full of tools to keep my cars going, but at least it was still possible. People weren't slaves to the government-licensed mechanics then like they are now. One of the things that I did was change the oil. By the late 70s, I was taking used engine oil to a local service station for recycling. I'm going to digress to the 50s briefly for the benefit of those of you who are too young to remember why they were called service stations. Today, the "service stations" that I've noticed consist of four rows of fuel pumps, no air pressure hose, no water hose, and a little armored cubical where somebody takes your money. The fancy ones are bigger and sell gedunk. Back then, my father used to pull up to the pump at a service station and just sit behind the wheel. He didn't need to get out of the car. The service station attendant would come trotting out to the car, ask which kind of fuel my father wanted, and start it pumping. Then, he'd check the oil and add some if necessary, clean the windshield whether it needed it or not, and check the pressure in the tires. Air pressure was free if you needed it. After the fuel was pumped, the attendant would take my father's payment right there at the car window and bring the change back to him. At most service stations, you could buy things like spark plugs, air filters, and maybe even tires and tubes. Remember tubes? At many service stations they'd even install them for you. Some service stations even did oil changes, grease jobs and overhauls. They provided service in those days. That's why they were called service stations. Back to the 70s, and my story. The man at the local service station was happy to pour my used engine oil into his drum, which was emptied once a week by an oil recycler. One day, he started charging me to take my oil. He said that the recycler couldn't make money on oil recycling any more and was charging him to take the oil. After that, I paid 25¢ per gallon to recycle my used engine oil. After a while, the price went up to 50¢ per gallon. Eventually, the California legislature (or somebody — does it really matter who?) redefined used engine oil as a hazardous substance. The claimed reason for the change in classification was to protect the environment by preventing people from dumping oil. The new classification would force people to handle the used oil more carefully. What a bunch of nitwits. We were already recycling oil, those of us who gave a damn. Anyway, the man at the local service station sadly told me that he couldn't take my oil any more, at any price. He said that he just couldn't afford to recycle it. The requirements for handling it had become too onerous. Puzzled, I asked him what he did with all of the oil that he drained out of engines. Shamefaced, he shuffled his foot in the dirt and said that he had started putting it in bottles and hiding it in the dumpster. So, the new classification had redirected his used engine oil from recycling to the dump, where it soaked into the ground. In the new century we've sunk to a new low. Less than a year ago, I observed one of my neighbors here in Fool's Hollow surreptitiously dumping what looked like used engine oil into the local dry wash. Eventually, if flows into the ocean. I wonder what the world is going to be like when the oceans are all covered with oil. For PayPal payments, use frontiersman@tomc.org.uk.
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Acknowledgments My thanks to the following: Sir James the Bold, SantaClara Bob, Lady Jan the Voluptuous, CVG, of Jerome, Arizona, and Sir Donald the Elusive. — editor
— Activist
Dear Activist It depends on how far from the shore you're plannin' to do your fishin'. Headlines for 2029
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