Los Angeles Times

ON THE ROAD HOME, GAS IS SCARCE

Returning after Irma, a desperate hunt for fuel across Florida.

- By Evan Halper

GAINESVILL­E, Fla. — The drive from Naples to Gainesvill­e was 288 miles of gut-wrenching anxiety, and not because of destructio­n from the massive hurricane that tore through the day before.

Along that entire stretch of Interstate 75 — four hours from far southwest Florida to nearly the top of the state — there was hardly a functionin­g gas pump to be found.

Mile after mile, motorists were exiting the freeway on fumes and encounteri­ng the same sorry sight: empty gas pumps covered with yellow bags, or even worse, wrapped in the dreaded shrink wrap.

“We are just trying to get back,” said Rachel Monteagudo, who was hauling an oversized camper from Georgia to Fort Lauderdale after fleeing the storm — but hadn’t seen any gas since she’d crossed the state line.

Hurricane Irma threw Florida into an epic gas crisis, turning the minor chore of filling up into what could feel like a fool’s errand. With ships unable to make deliveries through the storm and

power outages forcing stations to close, up to 40% of the gas stations in the state were unable to provide fuel Tuesday, the online source GasBuddy reported.

As hundreds of thousands of evacuated Floridians motor back toward homes in areas ravaged by the hurricane, the hunt for gas has become a communal obsession.

People loiter at empty gas stations in the hope the situation might change. A car drives into an empty station and parks; soon a dozen more cars pile in, thinking the driver knew something they didn’t.

This happened at a Thornton’s filling station north of Tampa. An empty parking lot quickly came alive with chattering motorists hoping for gas. One motorist started pouring gas into her tank from big plastic containers. Nearby, a man had been snoozing in a jalopy he had aspiration­ally parked alongside a shuttered pump. Now he got out and approached the woman, wanting to know where she’d gotten the gas.

It turned out it had been pumped days before, at a station hundreds of miles away.

Some state ports where gas normally gets distribute­d are just now reopening. Regular gas refineries and supply lines disrupted by the wreckage Hurricane Harvey wrought last month in Texas are still recovering. And gas trucks were blocked for days making their way down the Florida coast as Irma passed through.

It all created a desperate situation up and down the state.

The one station that appeared to be open off I-75 north of Tampa on Monday night created chaos. A line down the exit ramp extended miles up the highway. Police lights glared by the intersecti­on, with stressed officers trying to bring some order to the hordes of desperate drivers gridlocked at the filling station entrance.

The appearance of the gas line caused others to stop, setting off a chain reaction down the already clogged highway and bringing traffic to a near standstill for at least 15 miles.

Environmen­talists have weighed in on TV, blaming the state’s heavy dependence on oil and pointing to how much less gas everyone would need had there been more hybrids on Florida interstate­s and fewer fuelguzzli­ng SUVs.

SUV enthusiast­s blamed environmen­talists, complainin­g that their hostility to new oil pipelines worsened the shortages that choked Florida.

Often, motorists blamed one another.

When a couple of retirement age pulled up to a pump in Gainesvill­e, they shot a look of incredulit­y and annoyance at a journalist who informed them there wasn’t a drop of gas in the station — or pretty much any station for the next 250 miles.

“I don’t believe what you are saying,” the man huffed, signaling his intention to get back in the car with its nearly empty tank and keep heading toward Venice, some 200 miles away. All he needed to do was get a few miles off the interstate, he insisted, and he would find something.

His companion’s face went pale.

Stocking up on gas has become so advisable that even gas cans are hard to come by. One station owner charged $66 for three empty plastic gas containers. A police officer watched as he rang up the sale.

“How do you live with yourself?” he asked the owner.

Gainesvill­e was the most fuel-parched city in the state, according to GasBuddy, making it probably the most parched place in America, though it wasn’t clear why: The city made it through the storm in far better shape than other places that seemed to have more gas.

At one empty station in town, sheriff’s deputies in several squad cars congregate­d at an apparently empty gas station. Asked by a reporter why they were gathered at a gas station with no gas, one of the officers responded warily. “I have nothing to say about that,” he said.

Nearby, Devontshe Care sat in his car by one of the empty pumps, looking forlorn. The Key West resident trying to get home figured he had enough fuel to make it maybe 50 miles. He had a lot farther than that to go. He had seen some open stations pumping gas farther north, but the lines were long. He’d kept driving.

“I kept thinking, it’ll get a little better if I keep going,” he said. “It didn’t get better. Now I don’t know when I am going to make it back.”

Care, a candy store manager, fiddled with his phone, looking for recent reports of gas nearby. There were none.

Gas was trickling back into the state by Tuesday, though even then, it took unwavering determinat­ion to get any of it.

Frederick Wilson, 66, set out on a desperate search near Georgetown, where the storm had wrecked the roof of his home and knocked out electricit­y. A borrowed generator kept the refrigerat­or running and emergency cellphones charged.

But the generator was out of gas. Wilson’s car was not far behind. Every gas station he went to was closed. He drove five miles, then 10. Nothing. At 15 miles, he said, “I got into a gas line, circa the 1970s,” referring to the long waits during the energy crisis of that decade. “I got up to the third in line. Then they ran out.”

He drove nervously on, his gas needle dropping.

Then, bingo: He saw a gas tanker pulled up at a station, and a fellow driver said fuel was about to flow. Wilson eagerly lined his own car up at the pump.

Presently, the driver of the tanker emerged from the convenienc­e store, hopped in his cab and drove away. He didn’t have gas. He’d stopped for snacks.

Wilson finally found fuel at a Flying J off I-95, another 15 miles away. “Now I have to drive 30 miles back to my house,” he said.

Soon, he’d need more gas.

 ?? Photograph­s by Marcus Yam Los Angeles Times ?? ALICE BARBER surveys her damaged trailer home in Immokalee, Fla. She escaped Irma with her 86-yearold mother. “I hope FEMA comes around,” she said. “But at least we all survived. And I have my mom.”
Photograph­s by Marcus Yam Los Angeles Times ALICE BARBER surveys her damaged trailer home in Immokalee, Fla. She escaped Irma with her 86-yearold mother. “I hope FEMA comes around,” she said. “But at least we all survived. And I have my mom.”
 ?? Photograph­s by Carolyn Cole Los Angeles Times ?? DEVONTSHE CARE stops at a Gainesvill­e, Fla., gas station on the road home to Key West. Like many other stations, it was out of fuel.
Photograph­s by Carolyn Cole Los Angeles Times DEVONTSHE CARE stops at a Gainesvill­e, Fla., gas station on the road home to Key West. Like many other stations, it was out of fuel.
 ??  ?? FREDERICK WILSON fills cans after a long hunt for gas miles from his Georgetown, Fla., home, where the storm wrecked his roof and knocked out power.
FREDERICK WILSON fills cans after a long hunt for gas miles from his Georgetown, Fla., home, where the storm wrecked his roof and knocked out power.

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