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...and they had no idea of how it happened...just me, Bubba and eventually the brothers. Secrets are sacred, not everybody understands that. Keepers of secrets are a unique few, their character is defined by that disciplined trait alone, the only ones that could be trusted when not in sight.

Continued...
Bubba stabilizes himself after the clutch bump and slams the door closed, just as I was about to say "don't slam the door", fucking doors were different back then, heavy, hollow and loud.
We're in our blue cleaning coveralls and on schedule, same time as always for the cleaning crew. Traffic is lite, nobody around and we're going in to clean..."CLEAN THE PLACE OUT".

I pull in to the facility and Bubba slides the fence gate closed and as per protocol locks it. The entire complex is dark, not a lamp or service light anywhere, only the single street light outside the gate so as to illuminate the large "NO PARKING TOW AWAY SIGN". I'm looking into the rear view mirror and thinking "fuck that's a bright light" and I'm watching the stout, barreled silhouette of Bubba walk towards the truck and my eyes are going everywhere taking note of outside activities.
Bubba jumps in and slams the fucking door, I forgot to warn him, anyways he's getting into the mode now and deviously murmurs, "piece of cake".

First off the cleaning. I park the truck right along the north side of the dispenser compound just east of the cage door entrance, the office building is about 100ft north of the compound. Given that the box of my truck is plugged with a large tank there was no room for the rotary polisher to which I joked to Bubba that it's a relief not have to handle that "heavy bitch of a polisher".

We get inside the office and go at it, I go to the "sundries" office adjoining the main office but with a storage area in between where cases of petroleum and glycol products were placed upon order and waiting for pickup. I hit the utility light switch that lights up the walkway to the office that I had to clean. FUCKING WOW...the entire room, I think 5,000sqft, was loaded with pallets of SAE30, 10W30 and 10W40. I'm fucking looking and thinking "how can I make this work", then I snap out of it and go with the "one thing at a time" frame of mind.

We wiz through the cleaning in no time and the place looks good. Bubba looks at me, and I remember saying to him, "whatever the fuck you do don't light up a smoke", he fires back "no smokes are permitted in dispenser area, it's against the law"...my jaw is hanging at his words and I'm blank, he's gawking at me with a serious look, I quip "FUCKING AGAINST THE LAW, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK WE'RE DOING HERE, AND WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU START GIVING A FUCK FOR THE LAW?" I had him...but I was just fucking around with him.

We get inside the dispenser. I tell Bubba to use my flashlight with near dead "RAYOVAC D CELL" batteries, he's baffled, I tell him that we don't need a bright light in our hands while inside a restricted area. We
need the pump unit number that coincides with the power breaker inside the office, it was either 1,2 3. It was number 1. Bubba heads in and hits the breaker, the pump is on, but the squeeze handle is locked.

Bubba gets back from hitting the breaker and can't wait to start filling the tank. He has no idea though as to how it's going to be done. I had a 15ft 1"1/2 PVC hose coiled in back of the truck between the tank and cab and it was fitted with a rubber extension that I would close onto the end of the dispenser nozzle tightened with a pipe clamp. We cannot spill a drop. But the nozzle is still locked. Not a problem.

I look at the "dial indicator", the big round clock-like counter that meters the amount of fuel pumped. Then there's a smaller "odometer type" of counter that is zeroed after use.
The counter is not zeroed, I scribe the reading into the gravel/sand ground and tell Bubba that this is the number we return it to. He still hasn't figured out how this is going to work.

I tell him that there's a good 3" of play in the lever lock cable. I instruct him to hold the hose into the tank.
Bubba's in back of the truck holding the hose and I squeeze the fucking 3 inches right out of the slack and fuel roars out, Bubba's all teeth and I'm thinking holy fuck that fuel is moving fast, 800gallons in a couple minutes and my fucking truck is squatting but I did have extra leafs in the suspension, I used it all.

We quickly dismantle the PVC line, I return the counter back to the original number and sift back the sand and gravel to wipe out the scribble scratch.

It's important to note that back then everything was on a mechanical hard wire system and no surveillance cameras anywhere, unlike today's computerized and digital retention system. Manual readjustments were easy and undetectable. We're in the truck and I'm in 1st gear, I ask Bubba if he's got the flashlight, he does and we're moving.

I round the corner to the access road and the gate...I say to Bubba, "this is where we find out how smoothly this will go" he says nothing, we're at the gate ,he jumps out and slams the fucking door, I forgot to tell him...anyways I exit, Bubba slides the gate closed, locks it and we're getting out. I'm scanning the area and it's like nothing happened.

Now to offload the tank with the HIAB and get the truck back to the tire shop.

Next day it's business as usual and nobody knows anything, it's just another day...EXCEPT...Bubba and I are committed to helping his parents with their cleaning contract and have to faithfully be on site at the EXON ESSO BULK PLANT later that evening. Just like the night before.

Fuck me guys I need one more post to wrap this up, I didn't think it was going to go this long but as I go on I'm realizing now how much detail we put into this heist.
I will state this, the next two runs in this heist are where the situation gets tense. I need another day.
Thnx FAGGOTS.