self-serve…

We started out on our journey to the “big” city…from us to [it] there’s not much but open spaces.  It wasn’t until we were out in those spaces that I realized my little yellow “almost out of gas” light was on.  I could only think of one even tinier town on our route that might have gas…must certainly have gas.  And so they did…

(I just love the name of this store/restaurant/gas station???)

My citified eyes were looking for an actual station so, I missed it and in this three street town, had to roll down my window and ask a woman if there was any gas in town.  She looked at me like I was a bit crazy and then said it was right behind me.  Sometimes it just dawns on me even stronger that I am not in NJ anymore (where incidentally self-service gas is illegal).  This was as self-serve as it comes.

I pulled up.  According to the sign I had to go inside to alert the clerk so they could “turn on” the machine.  What I didn’t realize is that I also had to do some “turning on” outside too.  They must have been chuckling a bit inside watching the lady outside trying to fill up her car without pulling the lever first.  That done, I finally got my car filled up and went inside to pay…which included telling the man inside the price I was needing to pay because, his “eyes weren’t good enough to see anymore”.  Honor system, it was.  Then, what they must have thought as I took out my camera and took pictures of the pump.

Gas-pumping as never I experienced before.  It got us there and back.  thankful for the “Pizza ‘n’ More Eh!”

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