Bwhahaha. This reminds me. I was living in Berkeley in an apt, and did not have a garage or anything. My motorcycle was parked on a curb, and that's where I did my little maintenance.
One day I decided to change fuel filter, because it was clogging up with sh!t on the bottom of the tank. In order to do that you need to drain the tank completely. I drained it into a clean milk container and proceeded to change the filter. When I unscrewed it, I discovered that the rubber seals were so old, they crumbled in my hands. I debated for a sec about what to do with them, but then said: ah, fvck it and tossed them away.
Long story short, I change the filter, screw it back in, put the tank back in place and pour the gas from the container into the tank. Sicne there was very little of it, I drove to the gas station wich was some 400 feet away and topped off the tank.
On the way back to the house I noticed, that filter screws are leaking, and gas is dripping onto the hot muffler pipe :Q :Q
Now I have a full tank of gas which is leaking, and I don't have any seals. Fvcking great. I park the bike and rush to the hardware store for some rubber seals. Got them quickly and rushed back. Now, I either need to drain the whole tank or unscrew filter screws really quickly, put the rubber seals and screw them back in. The latter seemed like the easier way to go, so I proceeded with that.
I unscrew the filter screws, and gas starts to pour out. I quickly plug the hole with one finger, while putting the seal on. Then screw the bolt back in. By this time I'm completely covered in gas, everything around stinks with gas fumes, and there's a little puddle of gas beneath the byke.
I wipe the sweat off the face and was just about ready to clean sh!t up, when this Mexican dude who lived across the street comes over to chit chat. He's like: what's up, man? I turn around and see that he has a cigarette burning in his mouth :Q :Q :Q
Luckily, nothing happened. But that was one of the scariest moments in my life.
He's like; what's up, man