From ‘87 to ‘88 ish I worked at a Unocal 76 in San Diego. I had to wear a uniform and do the whole inspect-the-car-routine. We had clumsy analog pumps, manual credit card imprinters with carbons, a full service island, two service bays... it was a special time for me that I cherish. But the owner promoted sales tactics that I refused to adopt, so I soon found myself working more service bay jobs and scheduled on the late shift more and more. The most memorable good thing that happened in that time? I gave a father and his teen age son a fair shake on two new tires that they desperately needed after experiencing a blowout on the freeway. As I installed the tires I told them how much fun the job was, and how it was helping me save for college expenses. The dad came by a few days later and thanked me; he said that hearing my story about having fun working this job to help with college inspired his troubled son to positive action.
A buddy of mine's dad had a full service Exxon two miles from my house where I hung out a lot with him in the evenings helping him pump gas and wash windshields. That got me free hoist time just about any time I wanted to check something on my 51 Merc. They were pretty straight arrow as far as dealing with the customers went and the only thing close to a scam they had going was that they had a bunch of tapestry wall hangings for sale for about 20 bucks each in 1964 $$ and if the customer wanted one and had an Exxon card they would write it up as a wheel bearing pack. They packed a lot of wheel bearings in that place. When I got out of the Army in 1969 Chevron had a thing going that GI's could go to a school on base and could get their own station when they got out but I couldn't get into the program.
By the time I started driving in the mid 70's, self serve was the new thing. There was only one small Vicco station that still had an attendant pump gas. It had a small glass enclosure like a big phone booth [remember phone booths?], and an rack full of oil cans. It had been a busy station in years past with a two bay shop and a waiting area/ snack bar area. There were some older guys that worked there, I think it opened about 5 AM and closed about 11 PM. It's still there but hasn't been open in years. Now there is usually a car or two parked there with for sale signs on them. Old man Vick died in the late 90's and the family closed or sold all the Vicco stations. They were the cheapest place to buy gas around.
Worked at Miller's Shell in Kalamazoo while in college. Walt Ash Shell in Plymouth MI while doing student teaching. Even worked for Total on Schoolcraft and Farmington Rd after discharging from US Army. Was a job I enjoyed and was always able to fit into my schedule.
the bell is and was a charming sound and brings back the good old days................but if you were manning the station yourself and trying to get some work done in the bay..............you dreaded the sound of someone pulling up to the pump.
Still have Reeder's here in Tulsa offering traditional full service (www.reedersautoandtire.com, http://facebook.com/reedersautoandtire ). Use the full service pumps about once or twice a month just to keep an eye on tire pressures. And it's still fun to say "Fill 'er up with Premium". Free car wash with 8 gallons purchase from full service.
By the time I was 12 or so (1979) self serve was the norm and being that age, I was the designated pumper for mom or dad. With grandma though, we'd cruise into the full serve in her '70 Sedan deVille and she'd tell them to "fill it up with Ethyl". I thought that was the coolest thing. It might have been the last self serve on the north side of Fort Worth.
My first real job was petroleum transfer engineer at an ARCO on 82nd in Portland. Owner sold cars on the lot and I detailed them and did light mechanics to keep them running besides pumping gas. Best job a high school kid could have, I was lucky.
Reading through all the stories, I felt like I was back in the ‘60s/early ‘70s. I got into the service station thing late (20) because before that I had a really good part-time job in an auto store. I do have a LOT of good stories from my gas-pumping days, though. Here’s one: I was working at a Rich Oil station in ’70. These were ‘franchise’ stations where the owner bought the property and building and the company provided the product and signage. It was in a busy corner location on the main street of a small Ohio town. We had plenty of ‘smokestack’ industry back then and also plenty of competition. Every station was looking for an angle. One of ours was something that would be hard to imagine today - we would cash paychecks with the purchase of gas. This was a big deal to a lot of our customers; because they didn’t want to take their paychecks home, which would allow their wives to see exactly how much they made! Our station was within a couple of miles of three industrial plants and a State Highway Garage; so, on Friday morning, one of the owners would bring in a metal box with $5,000 in it. That was a LOT of money in 1970, but it would only last us until lunch-time – when it would be traded for another box with a fresh $5,000 stack of cash. All of us pump jockeys dreaded Fridays because the paycheck thing usually doubled business, plus it created a lot more change-making for us. The drill was that the customer gave us the order (usually a fill-up), endorsed the check and handed it to the attendant. We had to quickly clean the windows and then check fluids or tires if desired. We then RAN into the station, laid the check next to the cash box and withdrew the exact amount. Then we RAN back to the car, handed the customer the cash and held up the check so that he/she could count the money. Then, FINALLY, the customer paid us for the gas. We also had to remember to put the check in the cash box on our next trip back into the station. Something else that’s funny now – we never checked IDs – the idea of a fake payroll check was beyond anyone’s imagination! We had two guys on duty running 12 pumps. I hated Fridays.
Petroleum transfer agent.. Night shift, my car on the lift, customers only sporadically, couple pals hanging around. Good times.
In '62 I worked for Mac McCarney's Mobil station in Rhinebeck, NY following a futile 3 semesters at engineering school. Two bay garage, we did cars and Mercury outboards. You would be sole guy on weekends, tending the pump island and the side pump which was "white" gas for outboards. Dispensing trading stamps, directions, checking oil and air pressure and so forth. You sure learned how to multi-task. It was a good place to work though as we serviced the State Police cruisers from the local barracks in town. As a result when I built my '47 tudor (my first hot rod) in the lift bay after the station closed, Mac made me do it right and ran interference with the cops when they kept stopping me for lack of inspection sticker. You had 14 days after registration to get one and of course I pushed it to the last minute. I left Mac's and went to Morrisville Ag and Tech, spurred on by learning the lesson that I didn't want to be a pump jockey the rest of my life. But a pump jockey was a good foundation and adding two years and a degree in Auto Technology, then a seven year hitch as a Nuc in the submarine navy, has given me a pretty good life overall, working for civilian nuclear power.
Gas stations today are certainly a different animal. I wanted to work at a local station when I was 13 or 14 but the owner said I was too young. He finally hired me when I was 15 at his Sunoco station. At that time I mainly pumped gas but he allowed me to do some oil changes and lube jobs. When I worked Friday nights it was great to see the high performance cars come in and fill up with 260 before heading out to Woodward. Still remember this one guy that drove a light blue 61 Ford Galaxie with the 390 hipo (with his good looking girlfriend with big hair) and he was always a good guy to talk to-filled up every Friday night. The car sounded as good as it looked with a slightly raised stance. Also another car that I was impressed with was a 67 Chevelle SS427 Baldwin Motion car (as per the owner although I was never sure 100% about him). Bunch of others actually but those two seem to be in my memory. Worked at several others doing mechanic work when I was in college. Really enjoyed those days for sure. As others have stated on here before it was cool seeing some of the old drag cars that were in the bays. When I was a senior in college I worked at a Standard Station owned by Jack Fruehauf (related to the truck family) and his son had an orange 69 Camaro Big Block drag car we had to start up with open headers of course every night and move it in the bay. Cool memories.
Billy...I was an engineer at Jack's Enco at 92nd and Foster in '69/70. I had a little old lady who would drive up in her 41 chevy pickup every week like clockwork and buy a dollars worth of regular. I had to check EVERYTHING on her truck including transmission and rear axle levels. Took close to 1/2 hour. Sometimes when I saw her coming down the street I'd hide in the bathroom and Glen would have to help her. One day this kid pulls in with a roached out 64 GTO and fills his tank...jumped in a smoked the tires outta there without paying. Jack always told us we'd have to absorb those costs in our paychecks if it happened on our shift. I hollered at Glen to watch the pumps and I jumped in my 57 Pontiac [389/4 speed] and lit out after him. He made a spectacular drifting turn at 92nd and Division on the red and I lost him. Man! That one hurt. Was over 4 bucks off my check! Jack got fired when the exects found he was also owner/operator of another different brand of station down by the Ross Island bridge. Both companies fired his greedy ass.
Small world Rocky! I spent most of wasted youth on that street. I worked at the Hannah car wash after school for a while on 82nd and Glisan. And I did some time at Tom Peterson's right there on the "Diamond corner" where you worked. I remember once, my boss at the ARCO let me drive his 450 SL to get a parts order down 82nd. dark blue, true spokes and his cowboy hat in the passenger seat. I was king shit that afternoon cruising the benz and getting paid whilst I did.
Billy, I misspoke ...Enco station was a 92nd and Powell, not Foster. I should know better...I worked as the engine man at Foster Auto parts for 4 years in the 70s.
Don't remind me! I spent a few Saturday nights hauling microwaves for Portland Wrestling. Met some cool wrestlers though.
It was a two stall cover gas pump station, nothing fancy or outstanding about it other than it was in a busy, Bixby Knolls intersection Hello, Working at a gas station during high school was number 1 on my list of jobs. Every time we hung out where our friend had a job at the Texaco Gas Station in Bixby Knolls, there was always a car load or two of girls that drove up for a “fill up.” That in itself was reason enough to work at the gas station. But, access to the lift, grease gun and tire balancer also played a part in wanting to work at a gas station. Actually, working at a gas station was this question: Did we want to work at any gas station or only this particular gas station. It was right in the heart of suburban Bixby Knolls and on the way to two drive-in restaurants, a popular sit down restaurant with big bay windows, and a famous barbecue restaurant just up the block. It was the gas fill up station for most of our teenage friends and/or their parents. I was a service person. I dressed up, had my car related answers ready, and put on my serious teenage face when I went in for the all-important interview with the owner. My friend knew of my mechanical knowledge/background and recommended me to the boss. So, it was going to be a little less hectic. The interview was not going the way I wanted or thought it was going to be, during the slow, 30 minutes. Instead of asking me car related questions, the owner asked about “future” plans. WHAT? At the time, my future plans were to go to Baja on surf trips and become the first paid surfer to travel around the world, surfing and writing about my adventures. Also, there was my desire to build another hot rod/drag race car and see where that would have taken me. I guess he did not hear any college plans, family plans, joining the military, or getting into some business. Also, there was a question as to why my 58 Impala and 40 Ford Sedan Delivery never bought gas at his station? The look from this owner was telling me that working here was not going to happen anytime soon. (Plus, he was the one to tell me several weeks ago to not come into the station during my friend’s working hours unless I was buying gas.) It was a bad omen. Jnaki Well, I did not get the job. So, my access to a lift, grease, balancer, air, etc. was put on hold. There was another place for getting access to those, but the place was not located in the heart of hot rod/ cruising central. The owner was happy not to see my black 58 Impala parked in his lot at any hour. Geeezz ! (Just in case the owner happened to drive by, I had to park down the street and then hang out with my friend, working on his 3 carb Pontiac Bonneville hardtop.) “You can keep a kid from water…” but we drank elsewhere…isn’t that how it goes? Ha! P.S. Does anyone have original photos of this Texaco Gas Station in Bixby Knolls in the early 1960s? Please PM me, asap. Thank you.
I did the same as most a gas jockey in teenage years . I did this for a few years as time went on the owner determined , I could do tune ups , brakes , water pumps , all minor repairs . I would get off school , go home put on my uniform head to work . As soon as I hit the time clock , 6 full service pumps , 2 bays full of repairs and the owner hit the door like his head was on fire and his azz was catchin , to go fishin or huntin . It got to where Saturday was me scheduled to do shop work and a goon to be the pump jockey . While he was nowhere to be seen . I ask about getting some extra pay , for doing repairs , as the other goons couldn’t turn off the lights were getting the sams pay , FORGET IT , was my answer . I got some fun time with local girls after hours , in the shower and storage area ! Hell to a teenager a locked safe place was worth gold ! I had a few older buds , stopping in on the Harleys , I think this was the beginning of my thirst for owning a subside machine , hand jammin ,kicker was the only thing I looked at . So enterprising me , got an electric fuel pump and used his air hose , to back my car over his tank fill caps , drop the hose in and fill my tank every Friday , the old 427 Fairlane ran good on free stuff . This lasted for about 2 years , went to a line mechanic in a Ford dealership , once I saw how unsuspecting people were being raked over the hot coals by mechanics on commission for what they sell , I said to hell with this . Loaded up my tool box into my Buddy’s Little Red Express Truck , gone and never looked back . I ended up as a Stationary Engineer in a gas production plan . 35 years in the gas industry , now I’m the goon , again that can not turn on the TV with the remote !
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