Road Trip, Day 11, "Holy Smokes, Batman is that a Biodiesel Pump?"

Using your uncanny powers of deduction, I'm sure you've concluded by now that we finally located a biodiesel station in Los Angeles. Not just any pump, but a professional full service biofueling station. The Conserv Fueling station is conveniently located a short distance off the San Diego Freeway in Brentwood California. Not only does this facility sell biodiesel and traditional grades of gasoline, but also a blend of E85. Conserv is yet another example of an evolving biofuels industry. Although the industry is largely in it's fragile infancy, there is growing evidence of maturation. No longer are biofueling pumps only found on the backs of dilapidated old pick-up trucks. As evident by the Conserv station, Sequential Biofuels in Eugene and Propel Biofuels of Seattle, the biofuels industry is maturing. Individuals are finally investing money to build these retail fueling stations. As with any investment there is always some level of risk. For these station owners there is risk of higher prices due to higher feedstock costs, a questionable political arena and demand destruction by users who continue to choose traditional petroleum fuels. The individual companies establishing these pumps know these risks, but as more of them appear the general consensus is that the industry is here to stay. Time will tell. I for one hope they do, as we eventually will need alternative as our supplies of petroleum gradually deplete.

The summation for the 10th day consisted of intercity driving throughout Los Angeles as well as highway driving to San diago for a total distance of 180 miles. Assuming fuel economy of 44.8 mpg, 4.0 gallons were consumed for a total cost of $19.16 (assuming $4.79/gallon of B99).

Conserv Fuel: 11.1 Gallons, B99, $4.79= $53.47

Road Trip, Day 10, "Excitement"

I feel compelled to apologize to our readers. Yesterdays post was hideous. At no point during that semi-coherent rambling did we divulge any useful information whatsoever. Instead we took our loyal readers through a literary nightmare. So for that, I apologize. I promise you our intern shall have his writing privileges revoked until he can demonstrate some level of competency. Apparently, "Chimp" (as he's known around the office) accidentally uploaded a snippet from his upcoming vignette. We promise this won't happen again.

Now for an all important trip update. Against our will we ended up shelling out $12.66 for three gallons of diesel in Van Nuys California. At this specific gas station, the diesel pump was located far, far away from the other gasoline pumps, as if it was decrepit or had some hideous disease like Leprosy. With reluctance, I began to fill up my tank. Before I could squeeze a gallon out, an overly excitable foreigner came over and began praising me for driving a diesel car. He proceeded to explained how diesels were more common in Europe and that we should bring more of them over to the United States because of their superior fuel economy. I didn't want to burst this guys bubble but, he was seriously preaching to the choir. I let him rant on for quite sometime, but eventually I grew weary and had to be on my way. He's right though, don't be fooled by diesel's occasionally higher price tag. Simply because diesel's pump price costs more doesn't actually mean it cost more per gallon to drive a diesel. For example, if a typical gasoline car delivers 22 miles per gallon and a turbo diesel Jetta gets 44 mpg, then the price of diesel would need to double for the gasoline car to be more cost effective. In short, diesel cars are pretty remarkable, and our friendly foreigner had every right to be excited. To give you an example of excited people, I included a clip from my favorite TV show.

                        

Driving Summation for days 6-9 includes 137 miles of (city) driving and 7 gallons of
petro-diesel (yuck!). We added 4 gallon at $4.84 for $19.60 and 3 gallons at $4.19 for $12.66

totaling $32.26.

Road Trip, Day 9, "The Wave", a Narrative by Clayton T. Goodfellow

WARNING: The following views and statements may consist of an inordinate amount of "babble" and in no way whatsoever are related to the very purpose of this site: energy. They also do not necessarily reflect the beliefes or interests os Energy Epoch. However, if you are bored and have a few minutes to blow...go ahead.

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We awoke very early that day. The first nuances of daylight crept through the slightly strewn shades of my friend's quaint two-bedroom beach front bungalow. I rested a while, slowly acclimating to the suns crescendo as the first whimsical blankets of sunlight crept throughout our quarters and into my slowly awaking sensory preceptors. After a brief moment of personal solitude, I arose swiftly, galvanized by the surging possibilities from which today might present. Our amicable hosts were already a stir in the kitchen, meticulously preparing an early morning splendor, which would provide the nourishment needed for the unforeseen challenge, which, unbeknown to us, laid just around the corner. An event, which would irrevocably change the lives of three friends, forever.

After what seemed to be many hours, we reclined to a breakfast feast ordained for King Henry himself. The table before us lay engulfed with an expansive assortment of tasty delights and treats which tantalizing our every taste bud. We had scrambled egg yokes lightly seasons with menaced jalapeno, granulated pepper and rich cumin, all smothered under a jubilee of melted mozzarella, sharp cheddar, and hickory smoked pepper-jack cheese. Near the eggs sat an assortment of savory cracked oat, buckwheat pancakes individually handcrafted from a time old family recipe handed down through the generations. The gently warmed maple syrup glistened down the overflowing heap, emitting an invitingly rich aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon. The center of the table lay adorned with a steaming, savory selection of salted, smoked and seasoned beacon still simmering on a sizzling skillet. Adjacent to the swine, sat a salivating selection of sliced fruit from around the globe. We had diced mango, passion fruit, pineapples, cantaloupe, honeydew, kiwis, and kumquats. We had sliced bananas, apples, peaches, Asian pears and apricots. At the corner stone of each table setting sat an ancient sterling silver chalice, decorated with exquisite gem stones and elaborate Celtic knots painstakingly chiseled by a weathered blacksmith many centuries ago. Each beaming goblet filled with ice-cold whole milk garnished from a supple juvenile bovine. Our feast lasted what seemed like many hours and after we had each eaten our fill we rested in the merriment of one another's laughter and reminisced on previous galas come and gone.

When the time was right, we left our friend's humble abode in search of a destiny yet to be determined. Little did we know, but the events about to unfold would irrevocably change the lives of three friends, forever. In one hand we carried freshly waxed and prepped surfing boards, etched with the nicks and scars of previous oceanic battles. In our other, amphibious footwear essential to all aqueous fairing humans. Our journey to the waves consisted of a very short 10-mile hike over varying elevations and seemingly familiar geographical terrain. As we walked we laughed and shared stores of times when life was much simpler.

As we approached the shoreline our excitement began to intensify. We could hear the persistent white noise of the ocean as the waves gently lapped the virgin shores. Overhead the repetitive nostalgic calls of a lone gull carried across the vacuous expansion of space separating the ocean and the heavens. We scanned the horizon in search of something, anything familiar. Atlas we saw it, an isolated trimaran sailboard drifty gently, ever so gently off the western seaboard of California. Just as we were about to lay our boards down and shove off into the welcoming waves, I noticed my timepiece and realized that some how time had escaped us. How could this be? We awoke so early and prepared an immaculate itinerary. Somewhere between sunrise and forever, time had elapsed and thus we parted ways with the solitary gull and beckoning waves of Huntington Beach. As we left the shoreline, a feeling of contentment swept over our bodies as we sighed in unison, "We'll get you next time mighty wave, next time."

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Road Trip, Day 8 "Still no Biodiesel"

Alright so here we are, day 8 of our trip and day 4 of our adventures in la la Los Angeles. I believe I'm a fairly tolerate individual, as I have had my fair share of setbacks, but by Sunday I was growing increasingly agitated with Los Angeles. I don't know if it was the obtrusive cabbies, the heat or the fact that breathing all this smog was forcing me to breath entirely too much nitrogen oxide, tropospheric ozone and aldehydes. Regardless of the reason, both Brandon and I believed it would be best if we deviated our previously scheduled plans and spend the day enjoying the beach. So for the remainder of the day we ventured around Venice Beach exploring the many, many sights and sounds so prevalent there. We had plans that night to stay with friends down in Huntington Beach.

Huntington Beach is often best known for its surfing and massive homes which many celebrities inhabit during the weekends to escape their oh so hectic and stress-filled lives. What it is not especially well known for, is its historic significance as an oil producing region. However, after many decades of oil production, Huntington Beach now only houses two producing off-shore oil derricks, both of which produce oil at much slower rates. Speaking of oil depletion, we have still been unable to find a biodiesel pump within the vicinity of Los Angeles. We know they are out there, but they are either ridiculously far away or the information provided to us by Google has been inconclusive. Most likely, we will once again need to pay some Saudi Prince for use of his diesel.