Truck Driver Heard Strange Sounds From Fuel Tank, Gut Told Him to Cut it Open

As the highway began a steep, unlit mountain climb, the truck violently bucked. The engine starved, sputtered, and died. Marcus acted on pure muscle memory, riding the clutch and steering through the dead weight of the eighty-thousand-pound rig to guide it safely onto the narrow gravel shoulder. 

Outside, the desert night air was freezing. Marcus grabbed his heavy flashlight and unlatched the massive hood to inspect the engine bay, but the belts were tight, fluid levels were full, and no hoses were loose. Puzzled, he walked down the passenger side to the secondary fuel tank. His dashboard gauge had indicated the tank was half full, which meant he should hear liquid sloshing freely inside. Marcus planted his hands against the cab frame and rocked the heavy truck back and forth on its suspension.

Instead of a smooth liquid surge, a heavy, solid object slammed against the inner metal wall with a hard, muffled thud. Marcus lowered his flashlight toward the lower assembly, realizing whatever heavy mass was sliding around inside had shifted directly over the internal fuel intake, starving his engine of diesel. Before he could shine his light beneath the mounting brackets, the sudden sweep of red and blue lights illuminated the dark road from behind.