As I came over the crest of the flyover at the start of the M3 this evening the bike spluttered and died. I knew I was low on fuel, but the light had only come on 10 miles before that and I haven't filled up that early for years... I feel I'm pushing my luck after 45 miles, but I was so certain I'd the range left to get home and fill up in the morning that I'd happily ignored the Shell station just two miles previously.
Anyhow, I coasted to a halt and pushed the bike backwards along the on-ramp at Sunbury and, after a bit of sloshing the dregs of fuel around in the tank, enough found its way into the carbs for another 200 yards under intermittent power before I had to resort to shoving the dead weight myself again.
I've never been so glad to see a Tesco filling station price pillar, though it took me a while to find the station itself... it doesn't come into sight until another 5 minutes by which time I was soaked with sweat from the effort. Then I discovered they were just closing... kind of annoying that they advertise themselves as open 24 hours yet shut at 10:30 on a Saturday evening. Fortunately the guy locking the pumps took pity on me and let me fill up and the remaining 25 miles of my commute home were uneventful aside from the sub-zero temperature chilling my saturated clothing.
Why the metering system should have turned on the low fuel light so much later this time is a puzzle. I can't imagine anyone stole 2 litres of fuel from the tank while it was parked at work today and I've not smelt any leakage. The warning light had been such a dependable guide until now (much more use than the gauge itself) that it's a shame to think it can no longer be trusted.