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Given the less than intense interest in the details per to my post regarding the surreptitious acquisition of petrol from a bulk plant, I decided to finish the account anyways.

As a preface prior to detail I must add that buddy Bubba, along with most of all my brothers who "rode" are now dead and gone, (I'm sure they're at peace now) and there remains only a handful of us, the original cast in the greatest show on earth, unrivaled and a copywrite in reality that can never be infringed upon. Imitation is not replication, it's a wishfull illusion far beyond the capabilities of the meek, the weak and the sheep.
Nothing that I ever allude to will consist of "revealing specifics" pertinent to past events...when my sun sinks into the horizon I just may set off some flares of specificity..."but not yet, not yet".

Bubba's parents had cleaning contracts with 2 banking firms, somewhere around 5/6 bank buildings, that required cleaning 3 days a week. They also had 2 daily contracts with the local Shell Oil distribution bulk plant and the EXON/ESSO (IMPERIAL OIL/STANDARD OIL) centers. Bubba would help his parents and get payed cash, one day he asked if I'd help because his parents were a bit behind.

Bubba's father gives him the keys to the EXON bulk plant and says, "I know you guys will do a good job, I don't want to hear any complaints". We're off to the bulk plant armed with mops, rotary floor polisher (fucking nightmare when it fucked off on you), brooms and whatever, and most importantly a fucking huge ring with keys to every door, gate and lock in the plant.

20minutes later Bubba's opening the main gate and I pull in. The plant is on the waterfront of the International shipping lanes shared by US and Canada and in between two major institutional facilities that gets a lot of traffic including constant and consistently timed police patrolling.

We get into the main office and go right at it. The place was floored with a shiny green/White flecked marble that really buffed out nice. I tell Bubba that I'm going to fire up the rotary polisher to which he warns me that it has to maintain a center balance or it fucks right off. I didn't really pay attention but I learned when it fucked right off...right into the wall that the switch panel for the yard lights was on. The jolt triggered a switch and lit up the fuel dispenser compound where tanker trucks filled with distribution product.

Bubba's giving me shit and I'm just fucking amazed at the power of that rotary cleaner. I'm looking out at the compound and right away a brighter bulb flicks in my head. I tell Bubba that we should go have a look at the compound, just because, no reason at all, he agrees.

There's public activity all around the fenced perimeter and we're in coveralls inside the compound and invisibly obvious. Bubba wants to know what I'm thinking as I'm looking at the 1"1/4 fuel nozzle used to dispense product, it was premium octane gasoline and it was secured by a magnetic lock system that could only be activated with the polarized fitting designated to it...BUT...what caught my eye was the amount of gap in the retaining cable that secured the squeeze lever, a good 3" gap and it was all I needed.

I don't say a word to Bubba, we finish up and leave, but my mind is rolling. Next day we're getting attaboys from Bubba's father, we did a good job and it was noticed. He asked if we could handle the cleaning on our own for the next few weeks. NOT A PROBLEM.

Before leaving for site the next day I tell Bubba my intentions and he's all in, he had no thoughts of the practicality to this but he was in.

Before we commence I burn into his lookers and he knew that it was serious as fuck, he's the "patch", I'm not but we roll under the same code...
"WHO YOU SEE HERE, WHAT YOU HEAR HERE, WHAT IS SAID HERE STAYS HERE."
Secrecy is sacred and priority.

First off we had to take a couple days to familiarize with external surroundings schedules/routines, traffic habits and police patrols. Reconnaissance prior to the hit.

Day 3, execute plan.

I've got a 3ton industrial truck with a flatbed and HIAB knuckle boom that I "borrowed" from the tire company that I worked for, looked like a regular after hrs service call that I was always on. Bubba right away questions me, wondering WTF. I chose to keep this part secret until we went to it. He knew that we were filling large tanks with product but never once asked how we were going to offload the 2,000lb tanks of petrol or where I planned to stash them.

A very close relative of mine had an equipment rental company on northern outskirts of town, a dozen farm houses and no street lights, and I took care of the tire work.

We park the tire truck in the back of the yard where I had the tanks, 2 small tanks per trip, one large tank, and my 1 Ton GMC 4x4 to do the job. Bubba catches on.

Zero hour and we're off. Not much being said between us, until we pull into the access rd to the plant, Bubba wants to know how sure I am in pulling this off...I fucking looked at him and told him that I wouldn't be doing it if I wasn't.

We're at the main gate, Bubba jumps out and I bump the clutch so that it jolts him before his feet touch the ground, he's about to give shit then sees the grin on my face, he knew I was fucking around and giving a more relaxing atmosphere to what could be an event that lands us in jail big time and have ripple effects on others.

To be continued...I don't want to bore you faggots with lengthy details, I promised a 5 minute read. But it'll be worth coming back for the ending.