So many fixtures of my youth have faded away with little notice. Still, there’s not a week that goes by I don’t long for full-service gas stations. I really, really miss ‘em!No, I’ve not lots of disposable income, nor do I consider myself a germ-a-phobe. Since the Camry’s good about visiting its mother-ship for scheduled maintenance, I’ve little reason to worry about what might be happening “below.”
But, I’ve a Level-5 Phobia about tires! Before finally replacing all four last week, said auto had a wicked inclination to pick up drywall screws and other miscellany. Only once did I suffer a blowout – thankfully not far from home – but it’s become habit I regularly circle the wagon, scrutinizing tread. (Ya, and like I’d actually know what I was looking for?)
Haven’t I been taught to use the air-pressure thing-a-ma-jig? Yes, but …… I’ve recurring visions of a giant ka-POW, resulting in ugly black tread marks across my face. Changing a flat? Let’s not even go there.
One of my fondest memories: ca.1980’s, a f/s station in St. Petersburg operated by two elderly gents. You know, the sort who’d automatically begin checking vitals and washing the windshield sqeaky-clean … inquiring after the family, then asking, "How are you?” in a way you knew they meant it. A safe, warm feeling. In those days I was significantly poorer ~ both in finances and spirit ~ but I wouldn’t have ever considered trading that weekly ritual for saving 5 or 10-cents a gallon.
Somethings are just Priceless.
Ah, yes, full serve. Actually, we have one station which pumps for you at no additional cost but no windows, etc.
ReplyDeleteIf one of the guys does wash my windshield, I tip him. Very few offer to do it.