What is an experience you had at a gas station you’ll never forget?

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Mudassir Ali 8 months 2 Answers 149 views

Answers ( 2 )

  1. This story started at a gas station. This was around 1970 and they had opened up the first self-serve station in our town. It still had an attendant to take your money but you pumped your own gas, which was a new thing for most people.

    Three friends and I had stopped to get gas sometime after midnight and were chatting with two guys we knew who were putting gas in their pickup truck. About that time two pretty girls about our age pulled up. While one flirted with the young attendant, the other pumped a couple dollars of gas, then reset the pump and pumped a couple dollars more. Then they paid the attendant for the second amount.

    One of my friends and I went over to them and told them we saw what they did. We said the attendant was a friend of ours (we didn’t know him at all) and we’d hate him to have to pay for the short gas . They got kind of scared and begged us not to tell.

    The girl driving said it was her mom’s car and they had to top off the tank so she wouldn’t know they’d been driving it. Then they asked if we’d like to come to her house to party? Now any respectable young gentlemen would have turned down that offer, but of those three words only “young” applied to us.

    Me: What will your parents say?

    Girl: They both work at the mill on the midnight shift. My friend here is staying over.

    Me: OK, cool. We’ll go with you if you’ll take us home before your parents get off work.

    Sounds like a good deal so we tell our other friends were going home with these girls and see ya’ later, suckers. We leave with the girls and it’s only about five miles to the house, a few miles outside town. The driveway goes around to the side of the house to the garage and just as we get out another car pulls up.

    A very angry man and woman get out. I didn’t have to be told it was mommy and daddy.

    They start yelling at their daughter, then at us.

    Mom: We knew you were up to something! Neither of us had to work tonight! We’ve been parked down the road, waiting on you to come sneaking back!

    Papa: Get the hell out here! You’re lucky I don’t get my shotgun and shoot both of you!

    Girl: (Whispers to me) He doesn’t own a gun.

    Me: We need someone to take us back to town.

    Papa: Walk! Now get before I go inside for my shotgun!

    Girl: Oh daddy, you don’t have a shotgun.

    Me: I’m not walking all the way back to town. Be cool man and give us a ride.

    Papa stomps off inside.

    Girl: Don’t worry, he’ll calm down. He doesn’t have a gun anyway.

    Papa comes out loading a pump shotgun!

    My friend and I decide, without comparing notes, that it’s time to get out of Dodge, so we take off at a run down the driveway. Hearing the daughter shout, “Don’t shoot them daddy, they didn’t do anything!” helps with our sprint time.

    Just then our friends in the pickup truck pull up at the end of the drive. They’d followed us hoping to join the party.

    Driver: What’s up, man?

    We dive over into the back of the truck and shout for him to drive.

    Driver: That old man is yelling for us to wait.

    Me: That old man has a shotgun! He probably wants to kill you, too! Get out of here!

    So we peel off and no shots are fired, but I learned a valuable lesson; baby daughter doesn’t always know if daddy has a shotgun or not.

  2. Ooh I got one.

    This would have been about ten years ago in Brisbane QLD. I drove to work every day as public transport was not an option for me. I had my routine down to a fine art and it usually only took me a few minutes to fill the tank and pick up a snack and coffee for the drive. I’d do this two or three times a week at the same petrol station, one of the big chains that put a service centre on the main freeway which would have about twenty bays for cars to fill up, self serve style.

    So there I am filling up my car at the bowser , thinking about that sweet cup of java juice to wake me up properly, when on the opposite side of the bowser from me an old junker commodore sedan rolls in and stops in a bit of a hurry. I notice what I think is steam coming from the bonnet and my first thought is a broken radiator.

    A fairly rough looking guy jumps out quick, opens the hood, and it’s not steam. His engine is on fire. Flaming engine. Big petrol station. Every Hollywood movie with the enormous firestorm that obliterates bystanders flashed through me in an instant.

    In that moment of flight – or – act, adrenaline just dumps into your system so what happens next, really didn’t take very long, but felt like it took forever.

    The newer petrol stations have nice bright emergency shut-off switches and I smacked that thing before the staff inside even knew there was a problem. With alarms blaring out, I turn and see the driver has whipped off his shirt and is attempting to beat the flames out with it, just making the situation worse.

    There’s a dry chem fire extinguisher, right there, so maybe he’s just acting on adrenaline too and doing the first thing that comes to mind to try and dowse the flames.

    As one of the petrol station employees rush out, I pulled the fire extingusher, ripped off the pin and taken the two steps necessary to get into position … and the driver steps in front of me with his hand outstretched as if to stop me.

    I could not believe it, but let’s just say I had no problems putting out the fire, those nozzles are wide and the retardant comes out quick. He got covered, but so did the flames.

    In the seconds it took for the staff member to arrive, the fire is out, I’ve got some serious adrenaline shakes and the driver turns to me and yells, “You f— idiot that’s going to ruin my engine.”

    With the adrenaline running through me, it was a serious challenge to resist the urge to clock the moron with a nice heavy fire extinguisher. Without a word I hand the would-be murder weapon to the staff member, and move back to my car to close the petrol cap.

    Maybe the staff member saw the look in my eye, because good lad that he is, when moron tries to talk to me again, he gives the junker’s engine another couple of shots with the fire extinguisher and draws moron’s whiny attention back to him.

    I walked in, paid for my petrol, handed over a business card in case they needed a statement and then drove off, caffiene now completely unnecessary to my morning routine.

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