that is funny. i did think that there were some bad things to come when i read the beginning of your post
I grew up next to a 24 Hr. Mobil station and although I never worked there I saw some crazy stuff. One Summer night somewhere around 1969 or 1970 the local "wild man", Jimmy M******, came whipping into the station in an old rusty green '61 Chevy 4 door with one headlight out. He slid to a stop in front of the service bays , jumped out, ran into the service bay and grapped the sledge they used for changing truck tires. He came out and started wailing on the fender with the sledge, the light came on, he put the sledge back, jumped in and threw gravel all the way across the drive and down the street. That same Summer he pulled in with the same car, calmly got out, pulled a small revolver out of his waistband and emptied it down the side of the car. He threw it in the car and just as calmly climbed back in and drove away. There were 4 or 5 of the regulars standing there in mild disbelief. With Jimmy you never knew what to expect other than the unexpected so "total" disbelief was never quite appropriate. Somebody should have written a book about that guy but nobody would believe it.
wow, that was strange. i don't really know who would do that sort of thing. but to all the others, thanks for your storys. always a pleasure.
If I told you half the stuff this guy did over the years you would call me a liar but to anyone that lived in Mercer Co., IL. back then this guy was VERY well known. He was friends with my best friend's Dad so I was around him a fair amount. He was a hard drinkin' hell raiser like something out of a late 60's B movie but he was the genuine article. As kids we secretly admired him but we were also scared to death of him. The hardest thing to believe to anyone that knew him is that he died of natural causes!
Oh cripes. I could fill up the whole internet with gas station stories! I worked in maybe 6 Detroit area gas stations from the time I was 16 until I got out of college. Mid-70's & up - gas crunch years. All were within a mile or on Woodward Avenue. The things I saw and did.... The Sunoco at 12 & Greenfield was my first real job at 16. Owned by a decent but slippery guy named Larry. Fred the 17 year old hippy that managed the night shift always referred to him as "Bozo". One night we decided it would be cool to write Bozo on the bay floor in starting fluid & light it on fire (remember - 16!). It burned pretty good for a few moments and then went out. We were not prepared for the fact that ALL of the caked in grime in the concrete floor was burned clean. No matter how many times we scrubbed that bay with "blue flash" floor cleanser the pure white word "Bozo" remained visible for many weeks.... We learned that if you used the pointy u-joint nipple on the grease gun, & cranked the shop air up to 175psi you could hit windshields on 12 mile road from the safety of a darkened bay.... We had keys to the pop machine that dispensed cans of Coke & such. Every night we'd have a dozen or more Woodward cruisin' buddies over & load the machine with Miller High Life. One day we must've missed one and Bozo puts a couple quarters in hits the button and gets a "cold one". He stared at that can for like ten minutes, finally said it must be his lucky day, and drank it. Gal with big knockers was a regular (has nothing to do with the story - but good memories.. ). Brought in her Matador to get some work done. Wrench pulled the carb off to rebuild it but did not tell anybody. Night guys (we know who that was right?) pull the cars out to wash the bays. Hop into that Kelvinator & hit the key. Fires right up, toss into reverse & then realize that this thing is revving to the moon! Fuel pump was spraying right into the open intake. Of course a moderate fire followed, then hoses with water to spread the flames (remember - 16!). Eventually we discovered that a whole barrel full of "blue flash" would put it out. Lots of wiring and hoses fixed it. Neither Bozo nor knockers were very amused... An old guy drove in one day and said his back seat was on fire and could we put it out. Sure enough he was right - the back seat was blazing away merrily. I looked at him and said "we are a gas station". He replied that he knew that and figured taht we were good at fixing things and he hoped we could help. I repeated that we were in a GAS STATION. All of a sudden he realized that he was parked above 5000 gallons of 240 Sunoco. His eyes got HUGE, he put the car in gear and hustled out of the station and down the road trailing smoke. Never knew where he ended up... I have about a million more for another time...
An old guy drove in one day and said his back seat was on fire and could we put it out. Sure enough he was right - the back seat was blazing away merrily. I looked at him and said "we are a gas station". He replied that he knew that and figured taht we were good at fixing things and he hoped we could help. I repeated that we were in a GAS STATION. All of a sudden he realized that he was parked above 5000 gallons of 240 Sunoco. His eyes got HUGE, he put the car in gear and hustled out of the station and down the road trailing smoke. Never knew where he ended up... "fire station", maybe?
Back in the mid to late 70's we used to service all the local police cars, even the highway patrol cars at the local Gulf station. Every time one would come in for an oil change we would replace the amber park light bulb on the driver side with a clear bulb. Then when we were riding around late at night we knew if it was a cop behind us. I only can think of one time that came in handy.
Garage I worked at was in a moderately rural area. So very often we would get farmers bringing in tires off of farm equipment to get repaired. Very often caked with manure or at least mud. More often than not I would make them take them to the car wash down the street to wash them before fixing them. If the farmer balked at that, I'd take them down myself and hose them off, then charge extra for it. Had one tractor front tire come in that the farmer wanted the tire pulled off and put on a different rim for a different tractor. Thought the tire was awfuly heavy. When I pulled the valve stem a sream of white fluid came out, all over me and all over the garage. Seemed for weight, some people filled tires with a calcium mix with water. Never finished that job, sent him on his way. Changed my share of split rim tires too. We were a truck stop on Rt 5 had diesel, and occasionally would change or repair truck tires. Had the slam hammer, bull work for not much money. Used to air up the tires when we were done by leaning them against the side of the garage, with the valve stem facing the wall, put air chuck on valve and held the hose with tension while standing back. Still got a "ring" mark on the wall where one came off one day. After I left working there, he finally bought a tire cage. We had an old May tire machine I learned on. When he upgraded to a Coats machine, when the May was obsolete due to the rim differences on front wheel drive cars. I bought the May machine for $25. That was all the Coates dealer offered on trade in. He was really PO'd though when I said I would buy it and he didn't get it. He would have sold it for $100. I used that old machine in my home garage for over 20 years, and got $200 for it when I sold it. I picked up a Coates machine myself for $400 and upgraded. Sold that one for a profit when I got a deal on a Rim Clamp unit. Working and learning at a garage taught me the importance of having my own equipment. Bought the garages old bubble balancer when he upgraded to a Snap On gravity balance. He still uses the Snap On, and in my home garage I have a spin balancer now.
I have a pepsi machine in my shop,bought it for 200 bucks figured i could keep cold drinks in it and at 75 cents it woud pay to refill itself. Two spots are always "out of order" one is "out of order" that has bud red can in it and the other is "out of order light" for the bud light. always full and always cold.
I was working at Jims Sinclair,the hot little red haired girl from NAPA comes in carrying a bottle of liquid ebony so I could finish polishing my new paint job . To make a long story short, Grandma and I will be celebrating our 34 th wedding anniversary this weekend!!
Well it just so happens....I was a young dumb "manager" at a local Clark Super 100 station. Young? 18. Dumb? Very! I hired 2 friends to work the afternoon shift, 2PM to 10 PM. One was my best friend (at least he was til this post), and the other was a college dropout macho man, who didn't know a nut from a lugnut. Anyway, in the morning after I reported in for work I always had to do the prior days reports, then deposit the cash at the bank. Uh huh. Well that day, we HAD NO CASH! The Midnight shift guy had no clue, (or at least was scared to talk about it.) So, when the 2PM shift rolls around here they come, the ace afternoon guys. They had no clue why they were so short. "Must be something wrong with the pumps!" Uh huh. It took years but I finally got the whole story. Late the prior evening a drunk came in, they said. On foot! He started showing my guys the old shell game, you know, 3 walnut shells? A pea under one of them. Uh huh! They won over and over, until the "drunk" says "one more time, for ALL the money, double or nothing"! Uh huh. So, as our "drunk" is shuffling the shells, and my 2 guys are laughing at his drunk ass, Mr. Drunk Ass grabs the money, all the money, and sprints off into the darkness, with ALL the money! Uh huh! Now, of these 2 friends, one of them still is, and the other ran off to California, not to meet George Barris, but to get a job at Gold's Gym. Wonder how that turned out? I saw him briefly in a movie called Stay Hungry, starring a young unknown actor/bodybuilder, named Arnold Something-or other. Uh huh! 100% true and verifiable. Ya just gotta know who to ask. Uh huh! Anyway, I replaced the money, after I got some of it back from Yin and Yang. At least that's how I remember it. After all, it WAS 1962! Uh huh! Then there was the story of the employee banging some gal in the back room..or something. Wonder who that was? Don? Uh huh.
i've got a few,, my dad owned an esso station back in the late 60s-early 70s.. i used to work there pumping gas, sweeping, painting the islands, etc.... during the gas shortage, there were always long lines going all the way down the block. when it was time to close, he'd make one of the guys stand behind the last car with a sign that said "LAST CAR". needless to say, whoever got the job ended up catching all kinds of shit from unhappy customers. so, since i was the youngest (i was like 12 or something like that), my dad decides i should be the one to stand there with the sign. next day he asked who wanted to stand out there with the sign,,i quickly volunteered...he looked at me with that "are you fuckin nuts?" expression,,,,,,what he didn't know was that many of the customers were slipping me some cash to let 'em in line. made some decent cash for a young kid. when my dad first opened, he didn't have a refrigerator at the station, so they kept thier beer in the soda machine above all the soda,,you would simply unlock the machine, swing the door open and grab a beer. well, one day some little kid comes in to buy a soda,,he presses the button, and a bud comes out..the kid grabs it and starts walking towards the front door,,,i hear my dad yell "HEY, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE WITH THAT!",,,the poor kid looked like he was gonna cry,,,he was like 9 years old, and i don't think he even realized he had a beer in his hands.. speaking of beer, my dad and all the guys used to hang out in the back room drinking and bullshitting..i was 12 years old or so, and was pumping gas,,,i always wanted to hang out back there with the cool guys, and i always wanted to see how beer tasted...so, i come in from pumping gas, the guys are in the back laughing and drinking. i look on the workbench, and i see a mug half filled with beer. figured since they were all so occupied, this was my chance to try some beer..i walk over to the mug, doublecheck to make sure everyone is still in the back room,,look around, grab the mug, take a big gulp, and realize it's GAS!...luckily, i didn't swallow much..i ran outside and spit it on the ground..i COULDN'T tell my dad what i had done, so i had to deal with burping up the taste of gas all day long. there was a 20 year old kid that worked for my dad named jerry...he was kind of a doofus, big ol' guy that reminded me of baby huey. he always had the "plumbers crack" going on with his pants,,half his ass was always sticking out. well, this one hot august day, we were working together on a saturday. he's bending over pumping gas, his ass hanging out as usual. my dad has these huge red plastic watering can type things on the islands for filling radiators, probably held something like 5 gallons....so, in my devious little 12 year old mind, i get the idea to pour the water down his pants while he's bent over pumping gas...i figured he'd kick my ass, but i had to decide if it was worth it,,,i looked at the can, looked at his crack,,looked at the can,,looked at his crack,,,,a litle voice in my head said "fuck yeah,,,you gotta DO it,,it'll be worth it..so, i calmly walk over, pick up the can and pour it right down his pants. he was so pissed off, he left the customer car unfinished, chased me all the way down the block and back...i'm laughing my ass off the whole time which is pissing him off even more,,i jump in his car and lock the doors, sitting there laughing and giving him the "italian salute",,,,,he got over it about a half hour later and we both had a good laugh over it.. there was another station across the street, a gulf station,,,jerry and i decided to fuck with the guy pumping gas. it was pretty busy over there, and the kid was working alone. we went into the payphone and called the gulf, mind you we could see the entire scenerio from my dads station, we could even hear the phone ringing over there.when he was jammed with customers, we'd call the station,,,he'd run like hell inside to the office to answer the phone,,as soon as we saw him pick it up, we'd hang up. we did this for literally HOURS until he finally got sick of it and took the phone off the hook. never did figure out it was us.. there was an auto parts place, a NAPA i think called H&J auto parts. my dad bought all his stuff from there. it was in the next town, and the guy would come and deliver the parts to my dads station. they had nicknames for everyone, and their nickname for this guy was "HANDJOB JIMMY",,i guess they got that from "H&J" auto parts...so one day when i'm like 11 years old, i'm pumping gas and see the guy pull in to deliver the parts...i walk inside to let my dad know the parts are here,,,they are hanging in the back room as usual, so i yell "DAD, HANDJOB JIMMY'S HER WITH YOUR PARTS". all of a sudden i hear everyone in the back room hysterically laughing their asses off....apparently, they didn't call the guy handjob jimmy to his face...i couldn't figure out what was so funny, i was twelve, and didn't even know what a hand job was....hahaha i've got TONS more,,but my finger hurts,,,,,, i'll be back,,
When we needed parts I usually got the job of calling the parts store and ordering them. Expecially the one parts store no-one had patience with. They had one guy behind the counter who didn't know beans about cars, and would ask all kinds of dumb questions. This was in the day when you looked the parts up in a book. One day when ordering some parts for next morning delivery, the guy was especially aggravating. So I ordered a water pump for a 65 Corvair. He asked all the usual questions, what size motor, what transmission, etc. Then I told him I had to go, and just keep looking. My boss got an angry call from the kids boss about an hour later. Kid wasted an hour trying to find a water pump for an air cooled car.........even called a couple of the warehouses before his boss caught on to what was happening. A girl I knew from high school, a stuck up bitch, came in one time. Her boyfriend sent her over to pick up some muffler clamps. You know where this one is going......... I asked if she needed new muffler bearings with that. Before I could say only kidding she walked out the door got back in her car and went to ask her boyfriend. He thought it was a riot! She never spoke to me again.............. We also used to get people with the old changing the air in the tires. Heat expands and cold contracts, so you have to change from winter air to summer air.
yep, just about living in my dad's shop has taught me that when i go home, to get my own tools. i find that i don't have the right stuff, and it pisses me off.
great stories. there are so many things that i do and still have missed out on. after posting this thread, it makes me want to work at a station now.
This won't be short. But, I'm waiting for parts from the sandblaster. Mid 70's, I work 6PM to Midnite I think. I show up, and the Boss leaves. I'm spending my idle time sanding my 65 Vette, getting ready to spray yellow tinted primer. This goes on for quite a few days until the Boss calls me in to assist him on a day shift. I fill my bucket with water, and commence to sand in between customers. My Boss Jim, with a Southern/Eastern drawl asks, what the FOCK yad doin there John? I explain as I prepare to get scolded. He's bored and asks if I need help....? Sure. A couple more days and I'm ready to shoot. This a self serve place but we have a compressor for airing tires at the pump islands still. I've accumulated fittings the past 2 days to tap into the air system. I show up for my 6PM shift after stopping off at Sun Valley rents for a spray gun and hose, and Standard Brands for my white primer and yellow tint. My Boss then leaves, and I dim the island lites and put up "sorry, out of gas" signs on trash cans at the driveways. I spray the car and it looks great. Next day, Jim, my Boss screams...WHAT THA FOCK YA DO HEA LAST NIGHT YA FOCKER, because EVERYTHING in the service bay is bright yellow overspray? Before I can answer, he puffs up, all proud like, and reminds me of his help a few days prior, and says, it looks pretty fockin good John, obviously taking some pride in it's outcome
I was working part-time at a Standard Service Station around '57 or '58 for Elvis Jones, who was called by all of the Guys who hung around the station as "Casey". He was a really great guy, still had a lot of 'kid' in himself and really seemed to enjoy the Nomads club members. Never saw him angry or even really serious about things in general, just one of the Older guys so to speak. The Gas Transport truck had just finished filling the tanks, and was the normal thing for me to do was to climb up and check all of the tanks as being empty, and close the lids. I happened to have a brand new Butane cigarette lighter in my shirt pocket, and it slipped out and fell into one of the compartments. I was pissed, this lighter cost Twenty-some dollars as I remember. Told Casey about what happened and both the Driver of the Truck and Casey went paper white. Casey made everyone leave the station area and to prevent anyone coming in. He took the wooden stick used to check the underground tanks and applied I believe it was Permatex to the end and carefully poked in the compartment and pressed it against the lighter until he felt it had bonded somewhat. He then carefully pulled it out and handed it to me without saying a word. Later when his color returned to his face he proceeded to tell me what a dumb-ass I was, and just how close I came to Meeting Jesus face to face. All it would have taken is one spark.
that is a little scary. it is a good thing that didn't go off. dieing can ruin your whole day, you know.
Well thought of this one today, nearby the station, there was this welder, his shop didn't have a bathroom though so he always came over to use ours. Now first of all let me explain him, the only time we've ever got a weight on him was when he modified a cattle scale to be used as a buffalo scale. Over 550 pounds. Now, let me tell you about the station, the front is like a box built in the shop, has the food and register and bathrooms. The top of that box is where we would store tires and such. So this guy comes in and as is the "no shame" attitude that his family tends to have, he mentions something about mexican food being a bad idea as he's waddling in to the bathroom. After he's in there someone calls to see if we have a tire in the size he needs. I go up to check. So now my boss when he built this, the bathroom vent doesn't vent outside, it vents up to the tires. I moved one tire to check the size and what did I get, a compressed blast of the most vile smell you'll ever smell. I literally fell over gagging, and as I went downstairs my boss had come in and asked what was wrong and I told him, he just laughed. After that I called the person back and was standing out front when a guy came in with his kid to use the bathroom. The welder, finally came out and the dad quickly snapped at his kid to get in the bathroom, the welder said he'd give it a few minutes to air out, the kid looked scared about this looking at the welder, but the dad snapped again to get in there. The welder left, the dad was standing out there with me and I said to him, "I should turn you in for child abuse."
Unfortunately, these tales are from a day long gone. Very few full service places left that actually pump gas, and few places will hire a kid who was just hanging around to work in a garage. Very few who will risk the liability of something going wrong on a customers car, and very few kids who would learn a trade instead of playing video games.
I remember pulling a few "all nighters" when I got some friends to come help me swap out the motor in my 66 Coronet, and get the clutch done, or put on a set of headers. The owner of the place I worked let me do what I wanted after hours. I always paid for what I used, and always cleaned up. I could work on my own car when not busy, and sometimes things were very slow on weekends.
I never worked in a gas station but this story was told to me,it's true. North east NJ on route 3 around 1970.It's a brutal cold night,the pump jockey is freezing so he stuffs a folded complete newpaper under his jacket to break the wind.Car pulls in with some nasty looking guys inside,they ask him to fill the tank.Two guys get out and say we gotta get some smokes so we'll pay ya inside the office.The pump jockey gets the smokes,turns around, one of punks has got a knife out, "Give me all the mo fucking money asshole!!" The guy is scared shitless and just freezes,the punk lunges with the knife,it won't stick in his chest cause of the folded up newspapers!!! The punks freak out ,"He's mo fuckin Superman!" they run out,make a getaway but get caught by the police later.
I worked at a Clark station on Grand River in Detroit for a long summer and into fall. It was of course full service back then. It didn't take long for me to get to know the regulars. You know, the guy that always paid in pennies, the hot mom with the big boobs that aLWAYS wore a tight shirt. And of course there were the jerks who were rude as hell because youi were pumping their gas and to them that meant they could be real rude to you. Funny though the rude ones were always the ones with money and nice cars. So instead of getting mad, I'd pull my car to the pump when my shift started and get myself $3 worth of gas and then "hang" the pump back up without shutting it off. When the nice folks came in I'd grab the pump from the regular side. When the jerks came in I'd smile politely and grab the pump that already had $3 rung up on it and start from there. My till always balanced out and I had a full tank of gas that whole summer and it taught me to be real tollerent of rude people. lol I also would watch the change for rare coins and people spending there coin collections. Pre 1964 Silver dollars, mercury head dimes and all kinds of rare coins and old money passed through that place and I'd exchange it for the regular money from my pocket and sell it to the local coin shop for some extra dough.
Mentioning the coins reminds me of how I stopped at a gas station coming back from the junkyard one day about two years ago. I got some silver quarters in change so I bought out the till - someone had turned in a roll, apparently. Most of them were 1964's but one was a well-worn 1856. Oldest coin I've gotten in change yet. I guess that counts as a gas station story? Station is the only one I know where you can buy race gas at the pump, too.
The Jalopy Journal
