History How Many of You Did This ??

I always knew the hot girls' cars and would beat everyone else to the windshield jobs! Co-op station in Nebraska.

 

When I worked at the ARCO station in the 70s, I was told if a car was up high on the rack with the boss inside, I was supposed to ignore it, and NOT let it down til he yelled out to bring it down.
There must have been a lot of desperate woman needing tires and gas BITD.
I only saw that happen once. Some of the older guys had seen that several times.

 

In 64 I worked a 5 til midnite shift at a Chevron station in Merced right off the highway after my day job for extra money. I had to wear the shirt and wash the windshields, check oil etc. Some very strange things happened. You had all kinds of people that time of night. Hookers, drunks and those with no money who wanted to trade something for gas. I got a couple of 1911's a Ruger 357, a nice guitar and a few tools in trade. Told the owner and paid for the gas for the trades. I would not do it in this day and age.

 

The Deep Rock I worked at in Independence was an interesting place. The local dope heads used to pass through there on a regular basis and usually wanted like 33 cents worth of gas. LOL

Lots of the fellas talk about getting an education of female anatomy through the windshield. Some of the broads that came in there were all right, but most of them I wouldn't have kissed with your mouth.

 

My dad asked me if I would like to help the man that owned the Shell Station next door to his business while I was out of high school for summer break.

His employee was hurt in a accident and unable to work so I took the job.

I had a rental shell shirt but wore my own jeans,the station was small and only had 2 pumps but it was full service so we did it all and stayed busy.

I pumped gas,checked the fluids,washed the windshield, checked the air in the tires, emptied the ash tray and whisk broomed the floor if the customer ask for it.

I vividly remember one elderly lady that stop every week,she drove a 1963 Cadillac and always purchased 5 dollars worth of premium gas & wanted me to check the air in the spare tire,every time she was there.

She was nice and always gave me a dollar tip.

I also patched tires and changed oil,and did minor tune ups,at that time South Carolina had a mandatory yearly safety inspection so I did that also.

The plus side is I got to use one bay to work on my car and access to tools I didn't own,it was a great learning experience.

On a side note,I also had the job of cleaning the restrooms and keeping the condom machine stocked. ,for a small station he sold a lot of them. HRP

 

I worked with a lot of old timers, many of them Veterans, learned everything I knew up to that point in my life. A lot of young people today would benefit from that kind of experience.

 

I'm 64 - 68 I worked at gas station, the owner would often kid the ladies, when they asked for air in tires 2b checked. He would ask them if they wanted summer or winter air. He explained summer air gave a smooth ride and that winter air
word give you better tire mileage. They would decide,, he would pretend to flip a switch behind the air tower.
I wonder what the husbands said when they were told.
Those were good years.

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1980-81 I worked at a Shell station. 3 self-serve islands and 1 full serve. Still had the old style pumps that I had to rest with the key, and the small credit card carbon slips where you put the card in, dialed the amount and then ran the roller across to imprint. Also had the cash drawers out on the islands and had to make the cash change. Worked part-time. Had to wear brown pants (paid by the station) and the yellow Shell uniform shirts, which had to be returned after quitting. Overall I liked the job, way better than working a fast food place for a car guy like myself.

The station had a couple service bays, but no resident mechanic. Used to do a lot of flat tire repairs, an occasional oil change since there was still oil filter stock.

Since it was located right off the freeway, have a lot of funny stories of people coming in with overheating or knocking engines, tires that were flat, bathroom emergencies, etc.

 

hope i got this right:
"workin' in the filling station, too many tasks
wipe the windows, check the oil, check the tires
a dollar gas! AHHH
too much monkey business..."
(chuck berry)

 

I worked at a Shell Station before ,during and after the gas crunch. We had a blast working there. I made a 1.25 an hr. But when the owner found out I could do tune ups, brakes ,oil change. He bumped me up to 4.50. It all went into my 38 Dodge & 56 Chevy, Beer and Girls. In that order. Still friends with the guy I worked with then. Still own the 38.

 

At the end of August 1970 I took a train from Chicago to Denver to attend Denver Automotive & Diesel College. It was pretty disorganized and I was 18 and it was the first time I had been away from home. Classes in auto mechanics were from 8-12 and then we were supposed to get a job in the afternoon or evening. I got a job at Art's Phillips 66 station across from a big mall called Cinderella City. One night a black guy pulled in and asked if I had 2 tens for a twenty. Then he asked if I had two fives for a ten then he asked for some singles and the next thing I knew I wasn't sure whose money was whose. After he thanked me and left I told the boss what happened and the next day he said I was $20 short which of course came out of my check. That was a lot of money when you're only making $1.85 an hour. I never made that mistake again....

 

Wow, these stories bring back some memories! My first job in 1971 was working at an Esso gas station (still have the shirt). Started out running the car wash, but when the owners(two crazy motorhead brothers) found out I already knew how to do basic work on cars (thanks to my dad), they put me in the bays fixing flats, oil & filter changes, tune ups, brakes, hoses and coolant etc. Worked the pumps on the weekends. Great learning experience.
Learned the hard way about draining off the fuel at the fuel pump when it ran down my arms and into my armpits.
One of the owners had a '70 Pontiac Firebird with a hot 455 and 4 speed that he street raced. Those guys taught me a lot about cams, carburetors etc. I only made $1.90 an hour but it was one of the best jobs I ever had. The windshield cleaning could be real interesting too back then, what with the hippy chicks driving.

 

Looking back (now that I'm his age or more), I really feel for the owner of the busy Chevron station I worked at. He hired us high school auto shop doofuses, a real community man, and we did enough screwing up to make what hair he had left turn gray. One guy filled the crankcase of a 914 Porsche (the filler cap was on the B pillar) with gas. I blew the drive shaft out of the '54 Chevy station truck dumping the clutch on a parts run. He was always on the phone apologizing for something. Staffing was erratic due to our teenage whims. Still he was nice enough to let us stay nights after the station closed to work on our own cars. A good man, don't think I could do it.

 

This is a great thread!

 

Brother.Do these stories bring back some interesting memories.
Good luck.Have fun.Be safe.
Leo

 

One last story....

The most amazing thing I ever saw at a gas station occurred when I was working at one of Standard Stations freeway locations in '71. The station faced I5, and our exit was right in front of the station. So this was a slow mid-week day, beautiful summer afternoon and this VW bus is coming onto the off-ramp. This thing is knocking BAD, we can clearly hear it from several hundred feet away. The bus turns and comes down to the station and pulls in, parking over at the edge of the lot, still knocking only now it's LOUD. The driver gets out, lifts the 'hood' and listens for a minute, then shuts it off. He walks over where me and the other guy on duty are standing and asks 'Can I borrow your floor jack?' We look at each other, and say 'Sure, but if we need it we'll need it back.' The guys say 'No problem' and drags the jack over to the bus. Within 10 minutes, the engine is out of the bus. We get a flurry of gas island business, so we don't see what he's doing for a bit. Next break, we go over and he's got the motor cases split! He opens the side door, and pulls out a box of parts and starts looking at some used rod-piston assemblies. Finds one he likes. We get some more island business, so back to work. Next time we look over, he's lifting the engine back in. A few minutes later, he starts it up; no more knock! He listens for a minute, does a few adjustments, then bring the jack back and thanks us. Walks back to the bus, and drives off. The amazing part? Total elapsed time from when he pulled in to when he left... about 55 minutes.

He obviously knew VW motors very well, but never seemed like he was hurrying. And of course, who knows how far he got, but still....

 

Wasn't gonna tell this one, it's too long, but here goes.
When I worked at the Arco station in the 70s, we did cleanups for 2 car dealers in town. I think we charged each dealer $29.95 per car. Wash it, buff the paint, steam clean everything under the hood, clean the hell outa the interior, scrub the windows, shine the tires. After steaming under the hood, we'd pull it over to the wash rack, and leave it running for a long time to dry under the hood, then spray everydamnthing under the hood with a mix of ATF and God knows what else to make it all shiny.
Buffing sucked bad, and after I buffed through a few edges on hood, fender tops, etc, exposing primer, the boss didn't want me to run the buffer anymore. Great news.
Occasionally a car would need oil, or gas. We'd have to call the used car boss at the dealer and get his OK to add whatever to the bill. The Buick dealer was cool, the Pontiac guy was a prick, always bitched, always called to tell us to hurry up, he had a customer who he KNEW would buy the car we were working on, if we'd just "get off our ass, and quit fucking around".
Nobody at the station could stand the asshole, and we all hated calling for permission to do something his shitty used cars needed.
One day we did a 3 or 4 year old Chevy Kingswood wagon, bigass woodie POS. While letting it idle and dry off, it started knocking like a motherfucker, I mean really beating itself to death. I shut it off, and found no oil on the dipstick. None. Thought "oh shit, this isn't gonna go well."
Called Ray at the Pontiac dealer to tell him. AS best I can remember, and it WAS a memorable call to a kid like me, his answer was " Goddammit, I'm fucking tired of you guys screwing me, finish the Goddamn car and bring it back, I'm not buying anymore of your Goddamn oil or gas, that Goddamn car better be back here in 30 minutes !!"
I said yes, sir, as soon as possible. It was 4 miles to the Pontiac dealer. My boss told me to take it easy, but he had a twinkle in his eye when he said it. He hated that asshole, too.
I pulled out real easy. The way we did it was we'd drive the car back, and one of the salesmen would then bring us back to the station.
The Kingswood sounded like shit. I eased around the corner, got out of sight of the station, pulled it down into low, stomped it to the floor, and held it there.
I've blown engines up before. I know how they feel, sound, and even smell as they slow down slower and slower, and start welding all their little parts together. With a mile to go, I was afraid I was going to be walking, but the Kingswood finished the trip, barely moving with the gas pedal to the floor as I pulled into the lot, and then theatrically wheezing its last, as I rolled up to the showroom.
I couldn't have timed it any better with a script and screenplay.
Ray came running out the door, with all the salesmen behind him. The Kingswood must have sounded pretty unusual by then, cause Ray was screaming and jumping up and down, yelling "What did you do? What did you do to my Goddamn car?"
With the confidence of being 22 years old, and not giving a shit, I calmly told him that I HAD told him that it didn't have any oil in it, and that I specifically heard him say that he didn't want to buy anymore of our expensive oil, so I did what I was told.
The Kingswood sat where it died for a couple of days, then they moved it around behind the garage where it sat for weeks. I know that, because I drove by every day to see if it was still there.
One of the finest moments of my life up until then. Come to think of it, it's still one of my finest moments.
Makes me want a Kingswood woodie wagon, that shitty 70s green, please.

 

Worked in a Mobil Station in the 60's. No fancy uniform just a blue shirt. The boss used to have us put his Caddy up on the lift when he wanted to take a nap. If anyone was looking for him we had to tell them he was not here and we were just changing the oil on his car.
The day of the Kentucky Derby one year the boss had me taking bets from customers all day. I eventually took another job at a Hardware store, I later heard the Mobil Station got closed down for tax evasion.

 

I ran a Phillips 66 station in 1964. They had " mystery shoppers."
If you didn't offer to empty the ashtray or sweep the carpet , along with check oil and clean windshield , you got " Written up "
Checking air , including the spare , was part of the routine. Gas was $.33-.35 a gallon.
It didn't matter if they only got a " bucks" worth , full service was the promise.
I moved on to an ignition shop , didn't pump gas again until it became self serve.

 

Yep- worked at Al's American in Pennsylvania in the early 60s - full uniform and full service! Sold gas for as little as 17 cents a gallon - to feed a VERY hungry 55 Chevy - 301, Duntov cam, 411s, etc. A lot of street and strip racing . 55 was pretty quick - I would try, and usually beat, most 409s and 406s. Only thing I stayed away from were the Mopars up in Pittsburgh .

Learned a lot about life, love, and cars down at the old service station..... ( a good song title...).



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I was a petroleum transfer engineer on 82nd Avenue in Portland when I was in high school. Had a car wash on the same lot, used to suck all of the change out of the ash trays then go through the vacuum at night so I could buy a colossal burger at the Burgerville on the corner.

One day I told the manager we were out of car polish in the car wash, he said it was the same as the carpet shampoo and underbody rinse.

I loved driving the cars off the line to the detail area, 442's, Camaros, T/A's, the occasional Porsche and Z car. Best job on the lot...other than having to spend my own money for a burger. But I occasionally got a tip for doing a good job on the detail.

Winters were worst. Had to go back to the gas pump island when the car wash was slow. It rains non stop here for months and the only cars that came through for washes were cop cars. Never any money in their trays, never any tips either.

 

Great stories


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I dont have a story to share, but as a kid I sure do remember the "ding-ding" when my parents drove up to a full service island. Thats a sound you dont hear anymore...