When I was a yoot I carried my dad's steel 6 gallon jerry cans full of gas.
(Can I still use the term "jerry" or is that no longer allowed?)
He parked as close as he could but the carry was often across 100' of granite cobble, down a steep ramp to the floating dock where I got to swing them into the boat. As a result of that and hauling our oversized anchor, each September I would return to school with Popeye arms.
Now my back says "lots of smaller cans please".
Big gas cans, even with wheels, can knock one out of commission.
