being there

by josh marcus

Veggie road trip

THIS PAST SPRING, I bought an '84 diesel Benz and converted it to run on waste vegetable oil – in the process turning friendly neighborhood restaurants into my filling stations.

Of course, it wasn't quite that easy. Most establishments don't go through sufficient oil to fuel a car. And those that do are mostly fast food joints whose grease is no better for vehicles than it is for people. It can be hard to communicate what sounds like a crazy request to restaurateurs. And, most frustrating, some managers are resistant to what's really a win-win situation – preferring, for some reason, to continue paying for waste removal. Nevertheless, over time, after approaching some two dozen restaurants, I managed to convince a few places to let me haul away a regular supply of used oil every couple of weeks. Fueling mission accomplished on the home front, it was time for a road trip.

Armed with two buddies, I aimed to do my part to keep an endangered American pastime alive while acquiring free, friendly fuel along the way (without stealing) – or at least have a good time trying.

In Portland, Ore., I futilely attempted to pump fish head-laden oil into the car out of a jug on a busy sidewalk, while my two embarrassed friends ate at an outdoor table. Fortunately P.F. Chang's China Bistro gave us access to a huge Dumpster inside the secure garage of a downtown high-rise. The cook responsible for changing the fry oil remarked, "I've heard of the car, but I sure as hell never had somebody come to my restaurant and ask for my oil."

In Washington's Mt. Rainier National Park, I worried that a bear might disassemble the car while attempting to make contact with that tasty-smelling fuel. In nearby Enumclaw, the manager of a Japanese fast-food joint spent 15 minutes trying to communicate with his Latino kitchen help. Close to giving up, I walked into the kitchen, said a few words in Spanish, and was introduced forthwith to the oil drum out back. With an empty tank and stomachs growling, we arrived in Port Angeles, where my friend promised to show gratitude by consuming whatever food had been cooked in our fuel, and ended up munching tacos while I pumped soybean oil out of a taqueria Dumpster. Afterward, the chef came out to enjoy our tortilla-like exhaust fumes, fragrant enough to make any occupant hungry while the car is idling.

And then, after 11 days on the road, it was time for our last fuel stop: Bend, Ore., whose culinary innards hopefully contained the 25 gallons necessary to take us home.

A giant Dumpster lurked behind Deschutes Brewery, and it seemed a no-brainer: We would sample beer and leave with grease. We flirted with the waitress, in vain as it turned out: A grate covering the vat made oil-extraction impossible. It was 6 p.m., and our troubles were only beginning.

I unlatched Dumpster after Dumpster, and each one echoed with emptiness. A local company had just made its rounds, though nobody knew what they were using the oil for. I walked the streets with the crazed eyes of a gold prospector. Finally I found a willing restaurant, but their nacho-frying oil was partially hydrogenated, thus more likely to clog up the fuel system (and customers' arteries). A pub owner had imbibed enough of his own product not to care whether we emptied his drum. "Just don't play it," he slurred. My friend opened it, and the rancidity nearly made him vomit.

Finally, we scored three open buckets, but, naturally, the pump wouldn't work. I disassembled it in an alleyway, coating myself in fried noodle bits, and discovered that the filter was clogged, despite having just been cleaned. My friend volunteered his shirt as a filter. That proved messy and impractical, and I was about to kick over the bucket (or break my foot in the process) when I heard a voice in the darkness.

"I could use that grease, ya know," a lanky guy wearing oil-stained shorts intoned.

Word had spread like wildfire through Bend about the three boys on the hunt for veggie oil. The lanky guy, one Brian Finn, was starting a biodiesel collective and wanted to see what his brethren were up to. When we explained our predicament, he offered us some oil that was sitting in his garage. Which is how we found ourselves, late on a Monday night, following a stranger though the outskirts of Bend in search of four jugs of gooey canola oil. We smiled at each other. We'd realized our goal: to redefine the road trip by way of grease.

Josh Marcus can occasionally be seen lifting WVO jugs instead of barbells. He writes about issues of sustainable development, culture, and travel and can be contacted at joshdmarcus@gmail.com.

Trip planner

Based in Berkeley and Salmon Arm, British Columbia, PlantDrive (www.plantdrive.com) offers conversion kits, installations, and advice, as does Greasel Conversions, in southern Missouri (www.greasel.com) and Greasecar Vegetable Fuel Systems (www.greasecar.com). Journey to Forever (journeytoforever.org/biodiesel_svo.html) is a guide to using straight vegetable oil as fuel.