"We felt we could make it better, because we're Texans of course," says the TNRCC's Weiss. "I wouldn't say [Texas regulations] are more or less stringent -- they're just different."
Under Texas law, underground tanks must be protected against corrosion. Most tanks in Texas are made of either fiberglass or fiberglass-coated steel. Unlike in Florida, most tanks in Texas do not have to be double-walled or allow for secondary containment (the tanks near Rosenfield's house are single-walled). Any tank installed after December 1988 had to have a leak detection system, and monthly tests for releases or leaks must be performed on all existing tanks at least once a month. If the monthly integrity test shows evidence of a leak, the tank owners have 24 hours to perform the test again (sometimes the electronic sensors malfunction, indicating a leak where there isn't one). If the second test confirms the leak, the tank must be reported to the TNRCC within 24 hours. The agency's remediation division handles the suspected releases.
Deron Neblett
Deron Neblett
David Rosenfield surveys his ruined backyard. The barrels hold contaminated soil.
Related Content
More About
Until December 1998, tank owners could apply to have cleanup expenses reimbursed through the TNRCC's Petroleum Storage Tank Remediation Fund. Now, according to TNRCC spokesperson Virgil Fernandez, tank owners are responsible for their own cleanup -- and it isn't cheap. According to the EPA, the average cleanup costs $125,000, although small leaks can cost as little as $10,000. But if contamination affects groundwater, fixing the situation can cost up to $1 million.
The number of releases reported to the TNRCC in the past five years proves that owners were taking advantage of state funding for cleanups while they could. The last year fund money was available, 1,187 releases were reported to the TNRCC. But in fiscal year 2000, the first year tank owners had to take care of cleanup themselves, the number of releases dropped off to only 270. And in fiscal year 2001 -- which ran from September 1, 2000, until August 31, 2001 -- only 173 releases were reported.
Fernandez is hesitant to say that means fewer releases are being made public. Rather, he thinks owners were just benefiting from the fund while they could and that "hopefully they got rid of most of [the ones that were leaking]. That was the reason for the program."
But Ken Kramer, director of the Sierra Club's state chapter, thinks that answer just reflects the state government's willingness to give industry a little extra wiggle room.
"They don't tend to clamp down very hard," says Kramer, who thinks the TNRCC focuses too much on remediating situations like Rosenfield's instead of working to prevent them in the first place. In a sense, industries like big oil are almost allowed to police themselves.
"In part, I grant it is a funding problem, but it's a problem that even when there is inspection and enforcement, the agency always seems to give the benefit of the doubt to industry," says Kramer. And, he says, even if the agency were willing to crack down a little more, getting the funding would be difficult because legislators are so reluctant to impose any fees or taxes that could be passed on to the consumer.
Even when it's the consumers who need to be protected.
It's a bright, beautiful day in the Robindell subdivision where Rosenfield lives, but he can't enjoy it. He's too busy watching the mist from the car wash jump over the 12-foot fence and into his yard. He demands that a reporter go stand under the mist so she can feel how badly it burns the eyes.
"Do you smell the wax?" he yells out.
It is nearly impossible for Rosenfield to say one sentence about the gas station. He has to say at least 50, strung together in a breathless way, each one full of invectives against the enemy. Does the gas station think he's stupid?! How can they be so callous?! How can they have such disregard for privacy and property?! Don't they know this is David fighting Goliath?!
And on and on.
A neighbor of Rosenfield's who didn't want to give his name says he's "neutral" about the situation. Rosenfield has been a good neighbor, he says, "but let's put it this way: He has an agenda, and that's what he's out to prove."
But isn't he worried that perhaps his property is also contaminated?
The man ponders the question, then slowly answers, "There's evidence that there's been some oil. But the gas station…they've been good neighbors. They try."
Trying is not good enough for David Rosenfield, who thinks some of his fellow residents would rather not face the facts. And why should they? He faced them, and for his trouble he's stuck with lawyer's fees, a dug-up yard and a house no one in their right mind would want to buy.
As he walks around his property, Rosenfield ruminates out loud about his situation, which has grown bigger than he ever imagined it would. But despite his preternatural persistence, he insists he's an easygoing guy, not a complainer, and just not the type of person who goes around suing multibillion-dollar corporations. If he'd had his way, it never would have gotten to this point at all.
"They could've written me a check a long time ago, and I would've happily gone away," he says, over the rumblings of the car wash. "Nobody likes hassles, right? I just want to live in peace and happiness. I don't like any kind of confrontation."
