Jessica said as she turned onto US-80 and headed west. “You have any idea how much fuel we could fit in those tubs?” Austin asked reasonably. “I know their lids aren’t water tight.” she replied. “Fuel, not water.” “Same difference.” she told him. “If they spill, we’ll have gas all over everything. Including the food.” “The food’s mostly canned.” “Some of it isn’t. The pasta is just boxed, and the flour bags are just double layered paper.” “We’ve got those three cases of ramen noodles that are double wrapped in plastic; per package then each case.” Austin said in the tone of someone looking for a bright side. “And we can make do without the flour if worse comes to worse.” “Food is food; what happens if we get down to our last meal and are thinking about gas soaked flour?” Jessica frowned. “There’s also the clothes, the boxes, and the odds and ends back there; none of it needs to be drenched in gas. We’re not driving around with two thirty gallon storage tubs full of gas in the back unless the lids are water proof.”
