Well, that goes without saying, but I would have assumed that rather than some “jettison the goo!” switch they’d have some kind of valve thing to allow you to pump out the septic tank into one of those big trucks. You know the trucks that vaccum up the blue septic stuff from Johnny-On-the-Spots and similar type protable toilets.
Eg/ There’s a backery that has used frying oils trucked out. A big puper truck comes with a hose, it’s pumped into the truck and once the truck is full from the various restaurants etc. on its route, it does to the disposal facility.
And I’m surprised that the switch can be triggered while the vehicle is in motion. That just begs for all kinds of abuses… Mwa-ha-ha-haaaaa. Darn it! Note to self: No evil laughing until after plot is hatched.
I know first hand (strike that…first foot) that some people (strike that…subhumans) who have those ‘house on wheels’ RVs do the same thing.
It was just a couple of months ago I inadvertently walked thru a river of urine in a parking lot wearing flip flops. I didn’t realize what I’d done until I felt the splashing on my feet. It was probably one of the top-five most disgusting things I’ve ever stepped on. The moment it happened, I remember thinking to myself, ‘why is there a river running across the asphalt even though it hasn’t rained in days?"’ I followed the ammonia brook upstream to a big-ass Winnebago, where the owners had obviously decided to drain their recyled prune juice while they did some shopping.
The course of action I took in expressing my dissatisfaction with their choice of locale for sewage draining is something I’ll take to the grave with me. One thing I will admit to: I can totally sympatize with surfers who bitch about boaters who decide to open their flood gates offshore.
This puts me in mind of an old Bob Newhart routine – Bob was an air traffic controller talking down an inexperienced pilot. He tells him to pull a particular lever, and the novice pulls the wrong one, emptying his washroom holding tank. The ATC takes a call from another airplane (you only hear Newhart’s side of the conversation, as usual), and advises the pilot to “tell the passengers it was a giant eagle.”
When I was a kid I was fascinated by the fact that if you looked carefully when you flushed the toilet in the train, you could see the gravel on the ground between the tracks!
I kid you not! … Or rather, I shit you not!
I must’ve spent a good 20 minutes in the loo repeatedly flushing to verify that this was indeed what I was seeing. It all started because I couldn’t figure out why there seemd to be more light in the “tank” than in the little washroom. It was because I was seeing a sliver of daylight.
Oh and it was much more obvious in the winter with the sun on the white snow.
Billy Connolly did a famous old routine in the seventies called the “Jobby Wheecha”. It was based on his calculations that several hundred people for a five hour flight was an awful lot of jobby, and so he claimed to have seen something invented on television called the “jobby wheecha” which, when one put the seatlid down, wheeched the jobby out into the sky. Designed by man, of course, it was fallible, and the great danger was that it might not wheech the jobby away - it might wheech YOU away - “grab yer wee pink bum and away ye go. Next thing you know you’re skiting across the sky with your trousers round your ankles. Awful thing. You don’t know where you’re gonnae land. It might be your own STREET! People come past sayin “oh hullo Billy I thought you were gaun away…” Lying there with your bum all skint…”
It was a great bit, it went on for about fifteen minutes then turned out to have been the intro to an appalling version of “Please help me I’m falling”.