ok heres another good one,this guy would come in the station every now and then in a modelaa flatbed truck and would buy 5.00 worth of gas and ask ya to check the air in all the tires ok no problem ,he said he didn,t want to carry to heavy a load WHAT LOAD i didnt see nothing maybe he was gunna go get something,?but just as he pulls out, he starts hollering FRESH FRUIT ,CHERRIES ,STRAWBERRIES, PEARS what,, where i didnt see nothin
Back in 1971, I was 15 and hanging around a gas station down the street from where I lived. Had a friend who lived across the street and we had field cars over at his place. Guy running the station, showed us how to use the tire machine, so when we needed to change a tire, we could help ourselves to his scrap pile out back. He was happy to get rid of any tires he could. Eventually he asked me if I wanted to work there, so I started out as a pump jockey, and knew how to change tires. Eventually I was running the place for him evenings and weekends, at 16, by myself. By the age of 17, I had a NY State inspectors license, and the place could get busy on the weekends as where else could you get an inspection on weeknights and weekends. Also, I could use the lift after hours, or whenever it wasn't busy. He liked me, because with what I brought in in repairs, and sales was way more than he was paying me. At 15 it was $2 an hour "under the table" Then I went on the books at 16. First Christmas there I got my first Chrtistmas bonus $50! While I was 17, on the weekends, had a steady stram of Musclle car guys, who were older than me, come in and we would work on their cars. I installed mags, headers, did clutch jobs, or whatever needed. The boss was happy as their was always extra cash in the till, and I could give my friends a break as long as they paid something. My older friends of course could buy beer! The boss had a 66 Corvette, we did a body off the frame rebuild. Learned a lot about Corvettes that way. I picked up a 66 Corvair I was going to make into a dune buggy as a friend had one made out of a VW. Turned out driving the Corvair for years and learned all about them that way. People saw the Corvair parked at the garage, figured an "expert" worked there. The Chevy dealer didn't want to work on them, so people brought them to me, and I learned how to work on them by using customer cars. I've seen a lot the years I worked there. People driving in wanting an inspection, but telling me they didn't want an inspection, they only wanted a sticker. Those are the cars I went over with a fine tooth comb. And if you saw, the actual condition of most of the cars on the road, you would stay home! Even worse was the shoddy repairs. Solid metal brake lines going to the rear end, with no brake hose. People using copper tubing, for brake lines. Brake hoses ready to burst. Hardware grade fasteners used holding suspension components, sometimes with square nuts. Cars with 3 different sized tires, mostly bald. Horrible barn job wiring. Suspension components with ball joints falling apart..........the list goes on. Dick is still running the garage in Akron, NY I'm going up there this week for an inspection. I couldn't stay there all my life, family and kids came along. I've got more for another time.......
I worked in a gas station back in the 60's, for less then a buck an hour. We had a guy who always came in bought $3.00 and ask if we could change a $100 bill. It took a while, but we collected 100 one dollar bills, next time we gave 97 ones for change. He wonted his $100 back but we told him it was already in the drop safe. Never saw him again.
I wasn't a witness to this one but an old gas station rat relayed this one to me many years ago. He worked as a tech in a gas station in Framingham, Mass. that sat on a 4 corners intersection. Every afternoon when the neighboring plant let out the workers at 3:00 PM this guy (We'll call him Mr. Impatient), would approach the intersection ,and if the light was glowing RED , he'd jerk his wheel to the right and cut thru the side and front apron of their gas station and drop himself back out onto the next roadway. This always occurred precisely at 3:15 EVERY FREAKIN' DAY according to Gene. Finally Gene and his boss had enough of Mr. Impatient's short cut skills. They blocked the end bay door with Gene's immaculate '55 black Ford Customline 2 door to squeeze down the front apron area and to also cover the covert activity taking place in the bay hidden by the Gene's Ford. Right on time, Mr. Impatient showed up that afternoon, booking full tilt thru their driveway. Gene had prepared a huge iron floor jack by removing the handle and oiling up the wheels with the slipperiest stuff chemists could brew. With their boots on the front of the jack Gene and the boss shot that jack out the open door, under Gene's Ford, and right into Mr. Impatients path. Gene told me the damage was immense and sudden. The guy never blew thru their yard again.
My first job was as a pump jockey at a Sinclair Station in Memphis in '69. I had my learners permit and would ride my Honda 305 Nightmare (Dream) to work each day. We had this cool 'ol fart named "Bad" Bob Hardin that ran the joint on the weekend, and this badass gaurd dog named Samojin the Germanian Chomper (named after some 'Rassler, "the Stomper"), who stayed chained up under an old van with just enough slack on the chain to scare the gen-u-wine SHIT outta' anyone unfortunate enough to use the sidewalk in front of the station. We'd lock Sam up in the station at night at closing, and the place would be "thief free"............. or so we thought. One Sunday morning we came in to open up, and Sam wasn't at the door, ready to scare some unsuspecting pedestrians as usual, so we were a little cautious and worried when we unlocked. We made our way thru the office, and were unprepared for the carnage we were about to witness. There, on the top shelf of the oil rack, ripped from one end to the other, bloody, oily, and scared half to death was a bonafied shit for brains dipshit of a guy who had broken in about thirty minutes after we had closed the night before! The guy had about half of his clothes left on, blood every where, and eyeballs right out of an Amos' and Andy episode! Sam wasn't much better off, he had lumps all over him, he was covered with oil, 30, 50, 70 wt, you name it, and he was one pissed badass shepherd! There was not ONE QUART of oil left on the rack! There were busted cans (the old cardboard and tin kind) all over both bays, AND now I was pissed as a 14 year old can be, because I was gonna' have to clean it up! The guy started crying as soon as we walked in, pleading for us to call the cops, and offering money to shoot the dog (probably the station's money, anyway). To my amazement 'ol Bob took the dog into the office, closed the door, and then walked back in and told the guy, " Boy, if you get your ass down off that rack, and clean up every last bit of this mess, I'll let you go". I couldn't freakin' believe it! That guy must have worked for at least 4 hours cleaning up the mess he had made, and then Bob gave him a t shirt and a pair of service pants, and directed him to the clothes closet in the back for a clean up....................... what happened next was something to behold, Bob waited till the guy had his shoes and what was left of his clothes off, and ..............you guessed it............... turned 'ol Sam out on his ass again! The guy screamed bloody murder while the dog did his imitation of a meat grinder. Just about the time I thought the guy wasn't gonna' survive it, I heard the "ding-ding" of the drive thru bell, and two of Memphis' Finest wheeled their cruiser in and cuffed the guy up and hauled his ass off! The guy said words I haven't heard since that day as they drove him off to the city pokey. "Ol Bob" sent me out to his pickup to grab a couple of the old Schlitz Tall Boys from the ever present ever full cooler in the bed, and we laughed our asses off at that poor bastard, while I got drunk off one beer! Kinda' gave new meaning to "check the oil", and I would laugh every time someone would ask me too.................. Damn, those were the days.......
I had my first gas station job when I was 18. I worked there for a couple of weeks for $1.50 an hour. I was doing oil changes, assisting on major engine repairs (parts cleaning..) and getting the feel for the place. The owner was an out and out crook. He had me take a centerlink out of a customer's car, clean it up and paint it black and reinstall it. He had me take a battery out of a junk car, charge it up, paint it BLACK and install it in a car for someone, hit them up for $30 for the battery which was big $$ in 1973. Al day he had people calling looking for money. He had a lot of vintage cars deep in the shop, stuff that hadn't seen the light of day for years. I showed up for work one day on week 3, no one was there to open. I came back the next day, the same deal, not open. Figured I'd try back on Monday. I pull in and the place was burned down to the ground. It took out the Western Union office and all adjoining buildings that had been there since 1910. I looked around, glad I used HIS tools all along. Outside in the lot at a safe distance were all those vintage cars that were buried in the shop. They had to be pushed out since they weren't running, which told me that he torched the place. I never did get my last pay check. Bob
In highschool my buddy john worked at a local mobil after school and weekends pumping gas and doing small repairs.We hung out together all the time so at the end of his fridaynite shift we would head to the ave (231 in deer park).Rudy who owned the place took kindly to our group and was real generous also. One nite a kid pulls in with his parents station wagon to the full service island. He says put 10 regular in it ,trying to look cool in front of his girlfriend next to him. This was 1984 and regular could be leaded or unleaded,So john pulls the leaded regular and proceeds to put his 10 dollors of gas in,the kid sees leaded and yells i want un leaded. John stops the pump at 5 bucks picks up the unleaded pump and puts 5 bucks of unleaded in it. Kid says"I said ten". john says i did five regular and five unleaded. Mind you we were wiseasses to the tenth power when words had there short say fists would usally fly.John being the shortest fuse of the group. The kid says im not paying and starts his car and goes to take off. John reaches in and shuts the car off and pulls the keys out of the ignition but drops them on the floor of the car. then he grabs the kid by his shirt and knocks him in the head a few times. All the while the girlfriend screaming HES CRAZY GET OUT OLF HERE!!! Next thing i see the kid reaches for a bat and tries to get out of the car,Never to back down from a fight john runs into the office and gets his trusty axe handle and runs back to the car. At this point i guess the kid relised what he started and started the car and went to leave,but john wasnt having it. As he pulled away john took a full swing and hit the a pillar bending it and smashing the windsheild. That was the last we saw of him. We called rudy and gave our version of the story and went out like nothing happend. Two days later a guy pulls in the station demanding to see the owner and began to tell him how his attendent tried to kill him.Driving the same car. Rudy stopped him in the middle of sentance and said,"you tried to leave without paying the way i see it you were stealing from me and my man was protecting himself.Go now before i call the cops".So he left with his tail between his legs. Rudy is a stand up guy and i still see him to this day.
The local hang-out station here has been owned/operated by 5 gens. The second gen tells the story of the first time he met my Dad. He says Dad was around 12yrs old and wheels into the station sitting on a catalog, Scotty walks up, looks down and Dad says "fill-er up, you son-of-a-bitch!" I worked there for a month (hung out there so much I figured I'd get paid), one of the local 'personalities' was working the register. A woman walks in to pay for her gas and says " Well, Louie Deshasier I haven't seen you in forever." Louie reaches out with both hands and rubs her 'cans', she slapped his hands and says " and you haven't changed a bit!" You have to love small town living!!!
Im driving a beat up 69 LTD and i get flagged down by a guy ''your cars on fire'' he said (the power steering sprug a leak and was spraying on the plug wires). I stoped on a corner across from two gass stations. I ran over to get a fire extiguisher, ran back to the car...empty! I go to the other gass station and the guy has trouble finding the extigiusher and... it was empty too. A fire truck finaly shows up and puts the fire out, i tell the fireman what happened. He comes unglued...''those stupid MFers'' and goes over to talk to them. I never went back for the car.
Back in the olden days of $.19 gas and full service stations, I used to stop and get a buck's worth or whatever I could afford every now and then for my 1936 Buick. My dad gave me the money to fill the tank for my 16th birthday. When I pulled in and the attendant asked how much I wanted and I told him "fill it up", he couldn't believe it, called out all the rest of the guys working there and they were all over the car, checking the oil, the tires, washed all the windows, etc. embarrassing me all to hell. Never forgot that day.
All through high school (66-69) I worked at a Standard Oil Chevron Dealer Station. It's where I learned I loved working on cars, just not other peoples cars; my cars, families cars, friends cars, but not other peoples cars. I had a 56 Chevrolet 210 2 dr sedan with a 2 barrel 265 and a Powerglide. There used to be a fella that would come in every evening to fill his Honda motorcycle up with gas. He was always bragging about how fast it was, out running the cops, and generally talking trash. One day we lay in wait for him. I had painted my rear tires with oil. He arrived, and I walked over to my car, started it up, and revved the engine to get his attention. Then I lit the tires up. There was smoke everywhere, and I kept it up for as long as I could. When I was done, I walked over to him, took his money for gas, and he left. He never bragged about anything again. I don't know what he thought was going on, but it shut him up. Butch/56sedandelivery.
very late 70's i worked at a phillips 66 in the small town i lived in . there was one dickhead in town that always liked giving me a ration of shit when he was around. one day it was pouring down rain , he pulls up to the pumps with a car load of his buddies , i walk out , he cracks the window and says " 10 cents worth " ( gas was a buck and change per gallon at the time) of course he and his buddies get a big hoot out of it , so i turn on the pump , opened his door and ever so politely ask if he wants it in the front seat or back seat ? all laughing stopped and i put the nozzle inches from his face and asked if he wasnt sure he wanted it filled up . all he could mumble was a few "uh's" and a very faint "aw , c'mon" . after that he never messed with me again. another regular customer had a couple of pretty cool cars he would bring to the station for a wash and wax. my favorite was a 58 vette , he was a pretty cool guy and would let me take it for a drive from time to time.
Back in 1972 when I worked at the garage and was 16. My dad had revoked driving priviledges on my 53 Pontiac for a week because I was home late. I was able to ride my bike to work as it was close by. But one of my job duties was to run for parts in town. Too far for a bike, at least in a timely fashion. So the boss let me take his 66 Vette. Who sees me driving it? Of course, my dad! Later in the day, the boss had left to go home early, needed parts again. Took a co-workers 69 AMX, and ran into my mom on her way home from work. They confronted me when I got home. They didn't take away my license, they took away my car! They just gave me the keys to my Pontiac back as they knew I had to run errands at work. And knew I had other options.
I worked at my uncle's Mobil station in high school, started pumping gas and worked my up to small repairs, tires batteries, belts hoses, that sort of thing. Then I got my state inspectors license, I got to drive all sorts of cars doing this, it was great. One day my uncle called me outside and told me to inspect his buddies truck. You had to take the cars around the building get up to 30mph and hit the brakes in a painted area, to make sure the cars stopped properly. So I jump in take off around the building hit the brakes and bam, something heavy hits the back of the seat, this was in the eighties and super cab were just getting real popular. So I think damn it Ive knocked something off the little seat back there, I turn to look and throw what ever it was back on his seat for him, and just about pissed my pants. Apparenlty, my uncle's friend had a pet cougar and he didnt look to happy with me throwing him to the floor. I very slowly turned back around and drove to the bay, all the while waiting to be sliced into pieces like a looney tunes cartoon character. When I pulled the truck into the bay my uncle and his buddy were laughing their asses off. Luckily, he was a friendly cougar
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ...man how times have changed. Today, getting a cougar in the back seat is a good thing. .
One of the best parts of my job back in the 70's was taking customers home so we could work on their cars. Got to drive quite a variety of neat cars. There was an old guy had a 69 Impala SS. 427 4-speed car. He never drove it over 40 I swear. But after I dropped him off at home, and when I went to pick him back up, I got to excercise that boat a bit. And that baby flew. Had another customer with a 70 Super Bee. In the mid 70's gas prices were escalating and they wanted to know about how much it would cost to swap in some mileage gears. I had a 66 Coronet with a 383 4-speed with a 323 "open" rear. I got their 355 posi for an even swap with me doing the work. top it off, they tipped me $20 for doing it. The 70's with the energy crisis, had people coming in all the time wanting to know how to make their cars burn regular instead of premium. None of them wanted to do anything extensive, they were hoping for a $5 adjustment. So many muscle cars went for next to nothing, as people were dumping them left and right. If I had only had some cash and a place to put them I would be a rich man today. Another thing we used to do. Install headers, take off anti pollutin equipment, like the A.I.R. pumps, etc. Had tons of that stuff squirreled away in the back shed, just in case we had someone who needed any of that stuff. I'm talking complete original systems. When muscle car prices started escalating a few years ago, I went to see if any of that was still left. Turned out, he had just like 6 months earlier cleaned out the shed and sold it all for scrap. A fortune in parts...........gone.
I don't have any really great stories, mainly just that running a full service station by yourself will really open your eyes as to just how low the general public really can get. I guess the one cool thing was one summer I met a guy from Brazil, he pulled in on a motorcycle to get gas. He told me he was driving from the southern end of Argentina to as far north as he could get in Alaska. Then one guy I just had to shake my head at. It was August, but being ND, it can still get cold at night. There's a semi waiting in the parking lot, has Georgia plates on it. As soon as I open the door in the morning, this guy comes out, I'm not open yet but he's shaking pretty bad. He asks me if I got the coffee on yet, I went and got it started right away for him. Here he figured being summer here he'd be fine up north without a jacket. His truck doesn't have a heater in it. He spent the night in a day cab truck with no blanket, no jackets, and no heat. Edit - And yes I've had people offer "services" to pay for gas, but never anyone I would want to get "services" from. Blugggh
I'd be at my friend's Amoco station a few years back, and someone would drive up with the gas filler on the wrong side. They'd get out to put in gas, and see the filler on the wrong side, so they'd get in the car and drive around to the other side of the island. LOL...still on the wrong side. We always got a laugh at those.
1973. Stoopid hippie kid comes in with a VW that should have been recycled long before. He fills it up and proceeds to tell us it God's gas and he shouldnt have to pay for it. The Boss, a great guy, tells him that Jesus was just here and told us to stop giving the stuff away. I siphoned it into thje boss's truck and even had a little for my car. He was friends with Dick Clark and one day I got to take his Porche to get it cleaned. I got caught doing a 2 gear burnout and had to inventory the whole place over the weekend. LOLLOLOLOL!!!!! 1.35 per hr.
In college I worked for a friends family at their Exxon stations. These were still old time full service stations. One day I have a truck up on the rack doing an oil change. The phone rings and when I answer it was the local Stereo/accessory shop owner from down the street. He asks if I have this truck still on the rack. I say "yeah, Why" ? He says the guy bought all the stuff on the truck from them and wrote hot checks for it all. They have been after him for months to try and get it back. He then says I'll be right there. Him and two of his guys pull up a few minutes later. The owner if the truck is standing there looking pretty nervous but doesn't say a word. When I get done and start to set the truck down the 3 guys come over with a bunch of tools and begin to strip off all the stuff thats theirs. Stereo, speakers, grill, bumper guards, tailights, amps even the wheels. The whole time the guy is standing not saying a word. They get done and as they're leaving tell him " you should pay your bills. Once they left he tells me Man I'm gonna call the cops. I say thats fine but you need to gets some wheels so you can move this truck off my rack. He calls his buddy who brings him some wheel and he leaves. Never did call the cops while he was there. Funny as hell.
Had a lady bring her car in, a 68 Chevy convertible, this was around 1976. Decent car, some minor front end damage. Cam was toast. We did the cam and some other work, she wanted done. She comes to get the car, but doesn't have the money. Wonders if she can pay a little bit each week. Sure enough, when you get it paid off, then you can have the car back. She had tears in her eyes, playing the sympathy card, but no way. We park the car out back against the building, and block it in with our 61 Scout plow truck, figuring she would just come back at night and take it. To be sure, took the rotor out of the distributor. Never heard from her again. A month later, guy shows up with a tow truck to pick up the Chevy he bought. She sold the car, and signed over the registration to this guy. I show him the unpaid bill, tell him he can have the car when the bill is paid. He leaves, never to be seen again. About a year after the car was dropped off, we sold the motor out of it to cover the bill, stripped it out, and scrapped it. Never heard from the girl again.
We made more money off of deposits on gas cans than anything else. Our station was about 2 miles from a thruway overpass. People would run out of gas on the thruway, start walking looking for gas. Get a $10 deposit for the can, sell $2 worth of gas and never see them or the can again. Nearest thruway exit was 10 miles away or more depending on which direction they were heading.
Another time this tree hugger type comes in with his rx7 to get an inspection. He has all these stickers on the back like "fur is murder" PETA, all kinds of stuff. The owner finishes up, puts the stick on and hands the guy his keys and say " nice leather interior" Dude just stood their like a dumbass. Priceless.
As a pump jockey, I was amazed at the sheer number of people who would pull up out front to the pumps, just to have you come out and ask directions, and not buy anything. Generally, they wouldn't get out of their car while it was raining or really cold and snowing. I always gave them the directions to where they were going, but always the looooooooong way around.
Guy pulls in with a 64 Ford Galaxie. He just put headers on it, and did some work on the motor, paint job, wheels, looked pretty neat. Had me fill it up. Just as the pump clicked off, there was a clunk and splash. Gas tank straps pulled out of the rotted floorpan and the gas tank was on the ground spewing gas out of the filler neck. I quickly put on the cap. We ended up putting the tank in the trunk and adding in some hose so he could get it home..................from what I could see inside the trunk, he wasted his time and money fixing that car up.
i have learned just about all i know from other people's cars in our upolstry shop. i find that outlets like my dad's shop, and gas stations can give one quite a good lesson in cars.
One time, a fairly well to do older guy pulls in for gas, he was pretty loaded. I do the windshield an check the oil etc. He's got a much younger girl with him and hands me a tip. Says, take your girl friend out tonight. I say thanks and he drives away. I look in my hand and it was a 50! Sure enough, after work my girlfriend at the time went out and had a steak dinner, and a bunch of drinks, put a big dent in that 50. Next day the guy comes in and says. Did I give you a 50 dollar bill yesterday? I said yeah, I did what you said and took my girl out for s steak dinner and some drinks. He says I thought I gave you a 5 so you could take her out for burgers........... All I could say ws, It's gone now..............He just drove away.
The Jalopy Journal
