Remember when, very briefly, and for only a few but very vocal motorists (as in electric motor-ists), gas stations were absolute hellscapes where any manner of unpleasantness might go down, and at a minimum, they were filthy places one vacated as quickly as possible once the precious fuel had been dispensed? This guy laid it on particularly thick.
As entertaining as the destination of that link is, I’m actually thinking of that guy because, truth be told, gas stations can be sketchy places where weird things go down. Most are not, of course, as we live in the year 2026, and if you’re in a decently populated area, your local gas stations are probably perfectly benign, well-lit places to fill your tank and potentially grab a roller hot dog. The hot dog is the scariest thing in this scenario.
… Usually. There are times, late at night and well off the beaten path, that a gas station can feel like a spooky or even menacing place. The only truly off-putting gas station I’ve encountered was in the most middle section of nowhere between Texas and Rhode Island, where I found myself in need of gas as the family slept. The gauge was close enough to E that stopping sooner rather than later felt prudent, and Waze said a station was nearby, so why wait? A few turns and barely a mile off the highway, I thought I had somehow been transported to a primordial forest. As I crested a hill, the gas station appeared: two dimly lit pumps, an open sign in the window, and a collapsing door over the lone service bay. Two figures appeared as silhouettes, each with the faint orange glow of a cigarette in their head shapes. One nudged the other to look at the stranger they were about to meet.
(Unrelated scene from Duel, enjoy!)
I noped right out of there and drove like a hyper-miler to make sure I made it to a legit fuel-and-food oasis butted up to the highway and full of both light and patrons. I’ve seen horror movies, I know what’s up.
Your turn. What’s your sketchiest gas station experience?
Top graphic image: DepositPhotos.com
the old DX across the road from the Oceola Cheese Factory is super sketchy. had I no been on fumes and unsure if I could make it across teh interstate to the Amish place I would have not don it, but I did manage to get one of the two old guys chilling in the summer heat to figure out how to get the pump going and 5 bucks cash got me I think 2 gallons of unknown fuel. got me to the Caseys in the next wide spot.
For whatever reason, despite all my travels and late-night fill ups, nothing sticks out. I guess I’ve just never felt unsafe at a gas pump.
What was unsafe for everyone else was a trip through Vermont.
My friend and I were picking up an ATV in Connecticut (yes, we drove from Ontario, Canada, to Connecticut to pick up a Honda 700TRX).
We’d borrowed his dad’s ’02 Ram 3500 dually. He warned us “The fuel gauge is inaccurate, so you’ll need fuel at 1/4 tank”
SO, while flying down the interstate, I dip into a turn and the engine fuel starves with the fuel gauge reading HALF A TANK.
There was no way in hell I was dealing with getting fuel on the side of an interstate in rural Vermont, with no functional cell phone.
So I coasted to the next exit, took the off ramp at full speed, cut across traffic, and stood on the brakes using whatever was left in the vacuum booster to stop the 4 ton machine I was piloting with no power anything.
Got it right to the pump…except this station didn’t sell diesel.
So my friend got a taxi, went to a store, bought a jerry can, then went to a fuel station with diesel.
He came back, we dumped in 5 gallons, bled the fuel system (damn you, 24v Cummins) and then drove to the station he filled the jerry can at.
There’s probably a story being told somewhere about some crazy Canadian almost hitting them with a dually while cutting through traffic.
My parents had a ’96 Lumina APV, and around 2003 I was giving my girlfriend a ride in it and she couldn’t stop laughing at the fact that my dad had printed “1/4 = empty!” using a label maker and stuck it to the binnacle next to the fuel gauge.
We’re married now and she’ll still randomly say “hey, FYI, 1/4 = empty” out of the blue to us.
I love long standing inside jokes like that!
Old cars and their idiosyncrasies. My wife won’t drive my Excursion because it randomly will struggle to start until you goose the throttle.
It’s the Idle Air Control valve, which is sitting on my toolbox. I’m just lazy.
She says “I don’t want to drive vehicles that need a special ritual to start them”. Which, honestly? Fair. I’m just used to driving jalopies with weird quirks.
Years ago I owned an ’85 Caprice with a broken choke. Some friends and I were going to Mexico around ’07, and we took it to the airport because it’s huge and was the least nice car any of us owned.
We get there and are on the shuttle when one of them says, “do I need my passport?” Fuck. We try to convince her to drive as quickly as possible back home, grab it, and head back, because she’d have probably made it. Nah, she wanted to “talk to them.” You can guess how well that turned out.
It was going to start fine for her trip home, but the look on her face when describing how to start it cold was priceless. “Press on the gas three times, to the floor. Start it, it’ll rev up and then immediately die. Start it again, feathering the throttle to keep it happy until it idles normally. Repeat last step as necessary.”
It was even worse when it was cold. I had the carb rebuilt (was one of the electronically controlled Q-jets, didn’t want to mess with all of that nonsense myself) and it would start on a dime afterwards…I wish I’d at least changed the choke myself long ago!
The legendary “special instructions”
I thought only the 12 valve had the low pressure fuel system?
Nope, commonrail came after the 24v
My understanding is the feed from the tank is reliant on a sealed system.
Very stable unless the lines fail even the slightest.
It has a manual primer!
Then it enters the high pressure system.
The issue is we stalled it, so the entire high pressure side was air locked.
You crack the lines one by one and bleed the air out at the injector.
That’s possible with mine.
I went through those procedures.
Seems to have been a low pressure issue which was resolved, but not satisfactorily identified.
Might have been sabotage?
The low pressure pumps are known to go on 24v Cummins.
Commonrail engines don’t typically have air lock issues cause their injectors are electronically fired and injection pressure is MUCH higher.
The mechanical systems need to reach crack pressure to open the injector, which is difficult to do when you have compressible air in the system. So they gotta be bled.
Mine is purely mechanical once it reaches the block.
I think there is a very low pressure pump in the tank area, but I’m told it’s sensitive to air.
This was probably 1994, I was up to my usual late night caffeine and nicotine fueled dial up internet exploration, when I needed to refill my provisions. I jumped in my Samurai and tottered down the highway to the local Speedway gas station, procured a 20oz Mountain Dew and a pack of Marlboro Lights. Got back in the Sami, took a swig of Go Juice, lit a fresh smoke and started to drive home, just as a police car pulled into to station.
I pulled up to the exit to turn out to the highway as the officer decided to swing behind me and light me up, just as two other cruisers pulled up an boxed me in. I rolled the window down to greet the officer and he started shouting at me about harassing the attendant and why was I taking off in such a hurry.
I calmly explained that I was in no hurry, and if I were, why would I have stopped to light a smoke and drink some of my Mountain Dew. He was not satisfied by this and stormed into the station to check my story.
Five minutes later, he grudgingly returned and let me go; as I had in fact not been harassing anyone, and I went home. Sadly this was not an uncommon experience for me; the cops HATED my little black Samurai, and getting pulled over or stopped was at least a bi-weekly occurrence. The most gregarious example was of me being pulled over three times in one day on the same street by three different departments.
Or maybe I was just a very bad driver.
They were jealous!
My sketchiest times were when I was the third shift attendant at the local station. I sold more cigarettes and butane bottles than gas on that shift, and in retrospect I was probably the sketchiest thing about the station besides the drunk drivers.
My car gave me a check engine light in the middle of nowhere in Oklahoma, I took the only exit that was coming up and there was a little gas station that looked abandoned but it actually worked. I opened the hood to start checking levels and stuff, making sure nothing was out of the ordinary. It was so windy that I had to hold the hood with one hand to stop the shaking.
I went inside to take a break and use the restroom, everyone looked at me, I felt like I was in a horror movie. It was January and wearing nice clothes, I didnt buy anything, I took the smart decision of just gtfo and go lol I looked behind and I could tell they were looking from the window.
The light went off shortly after, damn car. I blame the low octane gas I got in New Mexico lol
This reminds me of the time my wife and I decided to go visit my parents in TN a few years ago and landed in Memphis, drove all the across to Knoxville. There is NOTHING between Memphis and Nashville except extremely rural, extremely conservative little hovels. And at one point we decide to pull over for lunch in one of these places. We went into some place- everyone literally turned and looked at us. I assume because we were the ONLY non-morbidly obese/ extremely unhealthy and unattractive people in the building and neither one of us are exactly spitting images of perfection but good god- these people looked absolutely miserable. We ate pretty quickly.
There are only two gas stations that really stand out in my memory:
#1: The T/A or Love station just north of The Grapevine on I5, which for our out of state and overseas readers is a bit north of Los Angeles California USA. The gas station itself was nothing special good or bad.
What made it stand out was the horrible bathroom. It looked and smelled like a fecal bomb had gone off inside. Everything was cracked, chipped or broken and filthy. The toilet stalls had a prominent glory hole in the partition. The floor had pools of brown liquid here and there. Thankfully the weather was cold, I can’t imagine how awful the stench would have been on a warm day. Much more thankfully my need was minor so I was able to take just enough of a look to sear the memory in my mind. Here we are 26ish years later and it’s still there, haunting me. When I saw the bodega bathroom sketch on SNL a few years ago it triggered horror of that gas station bathroom right back
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=vgBxxEL-3TI
#2: The place was Detroit Michigan, circa the year 1998. I was visiting for my cousin’s wedding and was being shown the devastation of that city. It was unreal. Blocks upon blocks of what must have once been beautiful multi story homes just gutted and left to rot. The gas station in question was on the wrong side of a street that marked the limit of where the tax money reached. On the *good* side the system still barely functioned but the other made the city of The Omega Man look like a utopia. It looked like a war zone on the losing side, much what I expect a city hit by neutron bombs would be like.
The gas station was on the wrong side and it was a crumbling mess of sadness. I was told if I were to get out of the car I’d be at serious risk for my life. Given all the convenience stores even on the “good side” had everything up on the walls behind bullet resistant glass and customers had to be buzzed in and out I believed it. Hell to the no was I getting out of that lifeboat.
Addendum: in 2008 during the gas spike I was filling my XJ when an absolutely gorgeous young woman in a brand new Mercedes (S class maybe) convertible approached me to ask for gas money. I’m talking billionaire arm candy gorgeous. Like I didn’t know such creatures actually walked the earth gorgeous. Like maybe, just maybe Heaven IS real gorgeous. It was like the Lock Ness monster asked me for tree fiddy. It was six+ sigmas from the mean of normal weird.
Unlike Chef’s more street savvy dad though I was so startled I just handed over a $20 without a word. I spent the next hour trying to process WTF had just happened.
She must have been an otherworldly smoke show for you to just blindly hand her $20 if your username is accurate
Oh she was, she most definitely was. But most of it was the surprise.
Had I seen her even a few seconds earlier I’d have had my defenses up. The only times unknown attractive women ever approach me have been to “make a connection” (UGH!) to sell me something whether it be to get into an MLM, a church (cult), fake magazine subscriptions (a story for a different day), useless penis mightiers, whatever.
I just wasn’t prepared.
The best part about late 90s Detroit was the lack of general people milling about. It was a literal playground as you could see anyone coming from quite distance away. Got up to lots of shenanigans back then; none of that is possible today because the city is quickly turning back into a teeming metropolis.
Shenanigans in turn of the century Detroit sounds ominous.
It was mostly just going to bars and clubs, lots of parties in places that really weren’t structurally sound or safe for lots of people. I’ve probably got cancer, or am immune to it at this point.
Ah that makes more sense. I was concerned your youth handle might have been Max Hoodlum.
The actual hoodlums and scrappers got to anything interesting long before we would have. At most I was guilty of trespassing; all long past the statute of limitations.
Ah. Trespassing shenanigans is something I may or may not have been guilty of myself.
Met a guy who insisted Detroit is all kinds of wonderful!
I’m still thinking more Dhalgren, like a thousand other cities seeming to mysteriously collàpse now
It IS wonderful. I spend as much time there as I can.
I hope there is potential there.
#1 Must have been a T/A. I have never experienced a Love’s in such a sad state and generally seek them out for pit stops on trips because of the clean facilities.
It probably was. I think it became a Love’s or is near one. This happened almost 30 years ago so my memory is a bit fuzzy, probably from the trauma of seeing that literal shitshow. And I had spent many a summer shitting in buckets in an outhouse next to a pasture of sheep!
When I got back to SD I told a work buddy about it. He said he was familiar with that bathroom and made sure he well relieved before he was in its area.
That gas station on I5 needs a full-time hired babushka.
My dad told me he saw those babushkas when he visited Russia in the 1960s. They were very dour and refused to yield any more than 3 squares of what had to be sandpaper. Which is weird for a country that’s like 99.99999% timber forest.
Getting exposed to crazy prices. That was yesterday.
4AM in a really rough part of a large city in the Midwest; very humid with fog just hanging. Sitting alone at a red light, waiting to turn left at a T intersection directly across from a gas station. Lone taxi cab sitting at the pump. Two police cruisers with no lights come flying out of nowhere and begin circling the pumps with their spotlights swiveling around. Passenger door of the cab is hanging open and driver is slumped over the front passenger seat. Nobody bothering to check on driver cuz there isn’t a reason to. Person who did this is A) out running around somewhere, and B) probably looking for a ride. I blew the red light and got the hell outta there.
In 1998, in Salinas, California, I was at a gas station when a fight broke out, some Hispanic man in a convertible fox-stang started punching this White guy driving a BMW because he allegedly had been staring at the Hispanic man’s girlfriend, who was attempting to convince her man to just leave. Today I suppose everyone would film it but at the time I remember it being weird because though the station was crowded I don’t think anyone did anything but watch, me included. I just filled the tank and left, while the event hadn’t actually finished because it was a weird fight, there’d be a couple punches and then some monologue and then a couple more punches, with the White guy mostly denying the allegation of ogling the girl and the Hispanic guy continuing to accuse him. After I left, I realized that I could have called 911 on the payphone at the gas station. But in the moment, that didn’t even occur to me, seemed like something to just stay out of, and that was how everyone seemed to be handling it, like just acting like normal despite this fight happening that was just I guess not their business, whatever.
Sometimes I feel like that’s the best way to handle it. Let two guys settle their differences the old fashioned way, no need for anyone else to get involved. Unless it’s clearly getting out of hand, of course.
Sketchy for everybody else:
I turned into a manned gas station on my ’67 Solex 3800. Killed the engine and opened the gastank as I was approached by the young lady clerck.
She started screaming:
-THERE IS SMOKE COMING FROM YOUR FUEL TANK!
-Yeah, I know, it does that. Killing the engine sends a flame into the gas tank, no biggy…
-IT’S ON FIRE!!!
-Wait what? It usually does not do that. I don’t see any fire.
-(Running away screaming) WHAA!!
-Wait, what is going on? Do you wan’t me to follow you to the next pump?
The young lady clerck smacked the door behind her to lock herself inside.
Meanwhile I was trying to process all the imputs that had just been trown at me.
-Hey, could you come out and sell me some fuel? My tank is almost completely empty, and this thing will take a full liter!
Sketchy for me:
What modern folks would call a Karen these days.
I was a teen on a push bike hoping to fill up a jug for my toys at home. A lady, already upset was vacating the unmanned pump I would have liked to use. She told me it did not work, in an already weird way. I sord of shrugged and waited untill she vacated the scene. Thinking that this lady’s card was just declined.
I swiped my card and and filled up my jug. Only for the lady to reappear shouting mad about me stealing the gasoline she paid for.
I stopped the transaction, closed my jug and jumped on my bike as soon as I could. Juming some curbs and crossing a field to get rid of this lady in a car tryin to follow me.
Around the summer of 1992, my buddy had a job at a convenience store next to a cardlock station, on what was at the time the outskirts of town. There’s a Burger King there now. Anyway, one night after my buddy had closed the store down, the lights were off and we were about to walk out. We watched a Mercedes drive in from the west and park at the far end of the card lock pumps. A minute or two later, a Jaguar drove in from the east. It was like a movie. They didn’t check trunks but they did trade cars, and each drove back in the direction they had come in the other’s car. My buddy and I kept our 17 year old selves inside the store with the lights off.
There is this one independent gas station near me under the “Global” brand with a “Gabby’s Express” store (located at the corner of Kipling and Jutland rd in Toronto). They only take cash or debit cards… no credit. I went there once and discovered this… and didn’t have cash on me.
So I paid with my debit (I rarely use debit).
And shortly after, my debit card and bank account was comprised and I saw a fraudulent “Amazon Prime” montly billing… which I immediately reported to my bank’s fraud department, got the charge reversed and had to change my bank account and bank card.
And I knew they were the ones at fault because I hadn’t used my bank card for anything for quite a while.
Bloody pain in the ass.
I have not gone to that gas station since.
And if any of you are in Toronto, I recommend you avoid this sketchy gas station as well.
To be completely fair to the sketch gas-station attendants, I once had a fraudulent charge on a card I hadn’t used or even taken out in two years when I was abroad. This stuff gets stolen and sometimes doesn’t get used for a long time.
If you got scammed paying at the pump, it was likely another person not affiliated with that business that installed a skimmer in the card machine.
If you got scammed inside at the till, that’s more likely the business that did it.
“If you got scammed inside at the till, that’s more likely the business that did it.”
Bingo!
This was back in 2015. A friend of mine, his uncle and I decided to take an impromptu trip to California in my then-new 2015 Golf SportWagen TDI SEL. Friend and his uncle were white. As you can probably tell from my avatar, I am not. We were on I-40 at 3 in the morning, somewhere outside of Amarillo, TX, when we decided to make a pit stop at a gas station. Friend and I had to pee.
We walked in and saw seven or eight people sitting in a clearing between the isles, around a folding card table. All of the participants in this gathering were just as alabaster-skinned as can be. Several pistols were on the table, in front of their respective owners. They turned and looked at us in unison. My friend proceeded into the bathroom. I, having “seen how this movie ends,” did a 180 and went back to the car, deciding I could hold it until the next stop. A minute later, my friend texted me with “I hope you didn’t follow me in here.”
Naw, sure didn’t.
For context, I’m a white guy and my wife is Asian.
A couple years ago we were taking a road trip and had to stop in bumfuck anywhere Idaho for gas. My wife went inside for snacks while I started the gas. Then I went inside, gave a polite “hi!” to the attendants, and made my way over to my wife, who was picking out snacks. The second I reached her, the attendants stopped talking to each other and gave us the hardest glares I’ve ever felt. They took our money and sold us our snacks, but the atmosphere in that station measurably hardened after they saw a mixed-race couple in their vicinity.
So anyway, we took that state off our “visit again” list.
Nothing like being judged by a couple of successful gas station clerks in the beautiful USA????
Just about any state, even the blue ones, can get really sketchy once you travel off of the beaten path. If it’s not a big city, and it’s not a tourist area, being non-white can feel like a real liability.
You can also meet some of the nicest people in smaller towns. It really just varies. But if you are white and traveling with someone who isn’t, being aware of that person’s safety is helpful.
I live in a village with just over 1,000 residents and they are some of the nicest folks whenever I come into town.
I wish republican wasn’t associated racist but they exist and they are annoyingly loud.
I’ve had the opposite experience in Canada. I’m brown and my wife is white.
Sometimes (but very rarely) I’ll face some poor attitude and hard glares until my wife comes up next to me, then those frowns turn upside down.
Per Chubyemu the sketchiest experiences involve sushi and egg salad sandwiches.
Years ago on my way home from college, I pulled off the highway at an exit with two towns. North of the highway the town was 4 miles or so and the south town was 5 or so, I picked the town to the north. I needed gas, so I pulled into town and found the one station. It was a service station with an outside lift and one pump. I walked in and the guy looked at me like a had a second head and asked, “what the hell do you want?”.
I told him gas. He said he would turn on and that I could only get regular because they don’t have anything else. Also cash only. So I walked over to the bank in town, got cash, and he turned the pump on and I pumped some of the worst smelling gas into my car. I stopped after a few gallons and was told, 10 gallon minimum. So I put in 10 gallons of hopefully gas.
I went to pay and it came out to around 28 bucks. I had two 20s and he had no change. So with no other place open in town and no option, I paid 40 dollars. I got back on the highway and my car started running like crap. I made it the next big town and filled up the rest of the tank with good gas and got home.
Months later I had car trouble around the same exit, went south this time and found the nicest town. I needed an alternator and the shop in town ordered one in and let me take the shop truck to school for the day. Had the repair done that day for parts plus 40 in labor and no charge for the use of the truck. It was like two tiny (less than 500 people) towns in a real Springfield vs Shelbyville situation.
While not creepy, more scarry / worrying. I was moving from SC to IL about 20 years ago and needed to fuel up the uhaul 1am-ish just off i40 after you cross the mountains. By the third exit I finally find one that has its lights on, but nobody working. I pay by card at the pump and start pumping when a cop pulls in and stops about 20 feet away from me sideways and just proceeds to stare at me the entire 25 gallons I pumped. I take my receipt and he follows me back onto the highway before turning on his lights and taking the first cut through across the median.
Well, many, many years ago when I was quite naive, I drove from Ontario, Canada down to Vermont to ski at Killington. One evening I went out to gas up my car, drove into a gas station and began filling my tank under the assumption that the gas station was self-serve like they all were back home. One of the attendants came storming out, mad as hell and started giving me shit for pumping my own gas. I apologised and explained my mistake by stating that back home all gas stations were self-serve. The attendant looks at my front Ontario plate and says something to the effect that “all the f*cking skiers should just go back home.” I got back into the car but since my side window was down I heard him say to the other attendant that: “if I had my .44 with me, I’d put the motherf*cker in the ground!” I paid and got the hell out of there and since have been *very* careful when traveling out of Canada. I’ve met many, many wonderful American people but there are exceptions….
When I was on exchange in the US I went with a bunch of fellow exchange students on a road trip from Penn State to Toronto in some rented people movers (Dodge Caravans from memory).
We were stopping for petrol somewhere in PA and a couple of the German girls who came with us jumped out to stretch their legs.
They were messing about a bit near the entrance, laughing and dancing around a bit, all completely innocent.
I was lining up to pay and I could here this older lady who worked at the petrol station commenting on their actions in a loud worried voice – “oh look what they’re doing now!” and things to that effect. Suddenly she ran out and shouted at them that they had to leave or she’d be calling the police.
The girls were shocked, arguing they were just standing there waiting for us to fill up, but the lady wasn’t having a bar of it, claiming they were drunk or on drugs or whatever (which was 100% not true, it was mid-morning and these were by-and-large good kids with excellent grades, hence being able to go on exchange).
We didn’t argue any further and left, not wanting to cause any more of a scene – I mean what’s the point? We’d filled up by that point anyway.
The whole incident sort of opened my eyes to a group who I honestly haven’t really seen outside of America – older people who probably should have retired but likely don’t have the money to do so. In this case the lady’s paranoia about “kids these days” clashing badly with her customer-facing role. Not to say all these folks were like this lady, many were very pleasant. It was kinda sad though all the same.
I should say this was more than ten years ago so things might have changed (I suspect not though).
Social cues often get misread, especially with Germans.
No idea what they were thinking about the girls, but it might have made sense to them?
I guess so, though I didn’t really see them doing anything particularly outlandish to warrant such a response. Having said that (and having thought about this event a bit more) petrol stations to tend to attract a certain crowd and it’s possible this lady had just seen too much and was now jumping at shadows. It reminds me when I was a teenager walking home from the station and, as I went to overtake this old lady using her walker, she started shouting to leave her alone. I can perhaps imagine the sort of experience(s) she’d had to elicit such a response when a (very non-threatening) kid was simply trying to get passed her.
I was once driving to Taos and stopped at a gas station in Abilene in the middle of the night. I walked in and the dude at the register looked shook. I grabbed a coffee and went to pay and asked if he was ok. He looked at me and said, “I just got robbed!” I asked if he’d called the cops and he said he’d called the manager first and they told him not to and to just go on with the shift. I told him to lock the door and I called the cops. I’m fairly certain that the manager set it up but the poor cashier was definitely upset.
“I’m fairly certain that the manager set it up”
What would be the point of that? The insurance company is going to need a police report to pay a claim.
Unless he’s getting a cut of the money stolen. I have no idea, I left after that, but that seemed to me the most logical reason for the manager to say not to call the cops.
A cut was my thought too but then he has to have an answer for the station owner why the cops weren’t called. After all it’s the station owner left holding the bag and they’re going to need the insurance payout to cover the rent.
Yea that’s logical as well. I’m not sure what the aversion to calling the cops was. Poor dude was shook
A lot of management fight against reporting crime.
It’s odd, and dangerous for the employees.
Way back when I was a kid, the family Iron Duke-powered Oldsmobile cooked the alternator on the Chicago Skyway. The responding police officer calls us a tow truck over their radio. This was pre-cell phone days. The tow truck turns up, the towie slaps a jump pack under the hood and away we go, following the tow truck. To the border with Gary, Indiana. I think the garage was just on the Illinois side. While the car is getting a new alternator, my parents were on the verge of having a panic attack. I’m a kid so I don’t know what is going on, just that the car broke far from home and this place looks a lot sketchier than even the sketchy places at home we always locked the doors when driving through. Anyhow, the mechanic turns the Olds around pretty quickly and my parents waste no time in getting us out of there. There was a bit of speculation on where the mechanic had obtained the alternator from. It didn’t look shiny new if my parents were to be believed.
Maybe 20 years ago I was coming back from Kingman to Las Vegas on the 93 and I stopped at the one of two has stations very late at night. I got out of the truck and got ready to pump a couple of gallons so I could use the restroom. Yes it was that or buy a snack so I could use the restroom. Paying customers only… Just started pumping and the speaker at the pump says watch out there is a Mojave green out there. Damn those snakes are aggressive and deadly I looked around and sure enough here comes a beauty. 2nd greatest fear response I have ever experienced.
They can make for very docile and cuddly pets, once used to being handled. Still venomous, no matter how tame.
Pretty sure the scorpion said something like ‘I can make for very docile and cuddly pet once used to being handled’ to the fox when it asked to be carried across the river. And like the scorpion I expect it will wait to mention the part about ‘still venomous, no matter how tame’ till after it’s too late as well.
Thanks but I’d rather stick with cats and dogs.
Cats and dogs use their excrement to mark their territory, even after you train them not to, and deliberately do that all over your dwelling space and stuff just to get their scent there. Yuck.
Sometimes its behavioral. A lot of out of the box thinking is due to medical issues though. And its still better (and cheaper) than rushing to the hospital for antivenom.
A lot of cats won’t even go inside.
My previous cat never had a litterbox.
Eventually he would pee on command, like a dog.
Years ago at the Exxon on Broadway in downtown Nashville a nice young well dressed African American gentleman started chatting me up while I pumped gas. Typical sob story, he needed $$$ for gas to go see his grandma in bumfuckistan Lewis county.
I was just NOT HAVING IT that particular night, just got off work, place was extremely busy, I was looking around for his backup homies, didnt see them.
Laughed in his face, told him bro, you got way nicer shoes than me. Dont be asking me for $$$$ wearing $450 Air Jordans that dropped 4 days ago I think I got him by suprise, clean cut white dude knew exactly what sneaker he was wearing, the street price, that they were hot/fresh/just came out. Dude just shook his head and walked off in defeat, didnt even argue with me lol
I had one similar to your story come up to me last week in my beater, dirty work shirt, smashed front end, both fog lights destroyed, 21 year old car. I just looked at him looked at my car and said no thank you, I think he figured it out too.
I had the opposite happen once, I was paying for gas with all the change I had left, and the guy behind me at 7-11 added $10 to my pump without even telling me, there are some nice people around still.
While not at a gas station, we were at a McDonald’s in northern Wisconsin a few years back and they had one of those 2-into-1 merge lanes. We let a gentleman merge in front of us and when we got to the window they told us we didn’t owe anything as the gentleman ahead of us had paid for our meal.
It was only like $12, but it was still memorable.
Driving in the middle of nowhere (Arizona), I realized one of my tires had a small leak.
So I pulled into the first gas station I saw. Either by choice or by necessity, it looked like time had frozen there at least 40 years ago.
As I got out of my car and walked toward the attendant, I realized that this looked like a MAGA theme park. Flags, banners, signs, stickers… Even every single item for sale at the store was MAGA.
I must complete the picture by pointing out that I have California plates, a thick foreign accent, and was wearing a T-shirt from my local NPR station.
The chances of things going south very quickly were copious.
But the story has an, if not happy, at least comforting, ending. The attendant was curt but polite and (rather noticeably) pretended not to see my shirt or hear my accent. I equally pretended not to see the abundant social cues, and after refilling my tire, I was on my way.
I arrived at a shop just as the tire was about to give out. They pulled a gigantic screw that was lodged in the rubber. Had the attendant thrown a fit and refused to help me, I would have ended up fully stranded in the middle of the desert.
Nice story, it’s comforting that gas stations still have air pumps. It came in handy once in the middle of nowhere Nevada for me.