The road was dry. The chain was lubed. It was time to go for a motorcycle ride. The pressure in my rear tire was a little low as was the fuel in my gas tank. The golden liquid swished around though it had been 185 miles since I last filled it up. I decided to go to Sheetz because the air pump there is free. Everything was fine for a few miles and then the engine cut out. I started it but it died again. This happened a few times. I was out of gas. I reached down to switch to the reserve tank. Being new to motorcycles I switched it to prime instead. I eventually found the reserve setting but it wasn't until after I stopped. I'm now stuck in traffic without gas. Over to my left I notice that traffic is stopped and that there is an SUV parked on top of another motorcycle. The rider was sitting on the ground with his back to me. People were milling around tending to him and the car. A woman was on a cel phone calling for help. I'm pretty sure she was the driver. At first I was afraid it was my room mate on the ground because his bike is yellow too. I looked extra hard to make sure it wasn't him but was distracted by my own predicament. I decide I had better get off the road so I pull over to the shoulder on the median side, not more than 20 feet from the downed bike. It was strange being out of gas right next to an accident scene. I felt selfconscious for being there. I couldn't help in anyway and my help wasn't needed. I thought about trying to get someone who was there to help me in my predicament but somehow that felt selfish. After all, I wasn't sitting on the ground pinned beneath my motorcycle and a truck. The guy was sitting up and was conscious. We even made eye contact for a brief moment. He was probably wondering what I was doing there. I was trying to not be there, but my fuel situation was making it difficult. I saw the passenger foot peg from his bike laying under the SUV. It was no longer attached. Yup, that bike is toast. I was hoping that I wouldn't get rear ended too by some rubbernecker. Traffic was thick and there was no place to put the bike on the median. I decided to head for the Sam's club parking lot just up ahead and on the other side of two fairly busy lanes of traffic. The traffic light just behind me provided me with periodic openings but I still didn't relish the though of pushing a dead motorcycle accross the street. I tried starting it again... and again... and again. Sometimes the engine would turn over. Sometimes it would only sputter. One thing was obvious, it wouldn't idle. It only ran when moving. Finally there was a break in traffic. I managed to get it started and rolling long enough to cross the street and pull into the parking lot entrance. Once the turn was made it stalled again. I had to push it into a parking space. I took off my gear, locked up my gloves and helmet and decided to walk to the gas station just down the road. I put my jacket back on because it provided better visibility than the orange t-shirt. The first gas station I went to didn't have a small gas can I could borrow. I went to the next one which was only a block away. I asked if they had a small can I could use and he said no. I did not despair for there was a Target not far away. My backup plan was to go buy one there... or call my room mate for help. Then the guy behind the counter said they had a large 5 gallon container that I could use if I left a deposit. That was a relief. I gave the man $10 as a deposit for the can, put some gas in it and walked back to my bike. I thought about how much information can be gleaned from an image. If someone had taken a picture of me at that moment anyone seeing it would exactly what happened to me. I was walking along the side of the road, wearing an unzipped motorcycle jacket and carrying a 5 gallon container with a little over a gallon of gas in it. Well, I got back to the bike and filled it up. It was around that time that I noticed that the container wasn't really a gas can but was a water can. I thought it was odd that it was blue not red when I picked it up. Plainly written on the side was a warning about not using it to store or transport combustible liquids. After pouring the gas into the tank I strapped the water can to the back of my bike with bungee chords I carry with me. I then drove back to the gas station, returned the can and picked up the deposit minus the $2 for the gas I used. I then drove to Sheetz and filled up the rest of the way. Yes, I should've filled up at the gas station that helped me out, but I was ready to be done with that whole situation. There was an ambulance at sheetz (not the one that was at the scene of the accident) and a paramedic helping a lady walk over to it. She seemed shaky and maybe ridgid. I don't know what was wrong with her but they got her safely in the ambulance and drove off. I then put air in the tire and went for the rest of my ride. Things were pretty normal from there on out. I was being followed but some guy who wanted to go faster than me but he passed on the dotted line. I had to stop and close the vents on my jacket because it was gettnig cold. It feels safer to ride on the back road without all the traffic. I suppose that it is just as dangerous if not more so because you can't always see around corners or see hidden driveways etc. On the way back I saw one more ambulance. I don't know if it was related to anything else I saw that night, but I guess it served as a reminder to stay alert while out on the road.