Well, many moons ago I owned some rental property. I had a construction worker that looked and acted like he was straight out of "my name is earl." I was paying him for a job in gas, yes - you read that right. I paid his assistant in beer. Anyway, he was using an ill advised container for the gas (an old laundry soap bottle. Anyway, I was sitting there in the old WWII style Jeep truck as he filled his tank with the laundry bottle we had just topped off at the gas station. There was a good rain storm going. I got bored and was lighting a piece of paper on fire in the truck because I like staring into flames (haha, nooot a good sign.) The paper began to burn me and I threw it out of the truck onto the ground. Little did I know, but he had been spilling the gas as he filled the truck. Wouldn't have been a problem, except that the rain had spread the gas around to the entire area. Everything went up in flames, including the truck. I ran and knocked the can out of his hands. He threw me into a nearby bush because I was now on fire. I got up and began to run from what could have been a rather large explosion. I jumped across the ditch towards his house, and nearly broke my foot when the croc I was wearing couldn't keep traction in the mud. My friend, who was nuts, put the cap back on his gas tank in the midst of the flames. (unvented old gas tank,) the unvented tank eventually stopped having fire in it without exploding. My buddy took me to the hospital for my ankle and I was on crutches for a few weeks. Those were my white trash days.
