Sunday, October 18, 2009

Take a Step Back in Time....

Excuse me....I'm taking a step back in time, just for a minute....wanna go?

It's when I was windblown little wide-eyed kid, long brown hair blown all over in the backseat of the station wagon with seven or eight other siblings, legs stickin' to the vinyl seat, as daddy pulled the old Ford into the filling station.

We lived in the country....but not too far out, because it was only a half-mile to the corner...

Out from the screen door would pop a kind old gentleman in his work overalls, or maybe a young man with his shirt all tucked in; just learning (and earning!) on his first job.

"Howdy! What do you need today?"

Well, that would depend, you see.
If we had just seen payday, and the tank was pretty low, it'd be
"Fill 'er up!"

Other times, if we were further from payday and had to "scrimp" it would be
"Gimme a dollar's worth!"
(Back then it was on sale for nineteen cents a gallon!)


"Can I check your oil, sir?"
Up would pop the hood, out would come the dipstick, (I was watching the proceedings between the crack) then out came the red rag from his back pocket, and then...
"You're half a quart low!"
hollered from underneath that giant, heavy hood.
(Being low on oil was the way with our old Fords, don't you know!)

Then the squeegee came out, (which I always enjoyed watching, such precision!) and the windshield was scrubbed away of bugs and road debris....all nice and clear once again, with the handy red rag used to wipe the drips if there were any....
The young man might circle the car, to see if any tires were low, (what service!) thus the name SERVICE STATION!

Daddy might (or might not) have to run in for a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread for the morning breakfast and lunch sandwiches for our brown bags the next day before school...we could all hear the little bell ring hung on the door, jingling as he entered the tiny store, where he might (or might not) stay a minute and exchange news with the clerk. And he might (or might not) come back into the car smelling like cigarette smoke, depending on who was working that day.

Pretty soon, the whole procedure was over, and the steel gas cap was screwed back on, tightened up, then the click as the tiny steel door was shut.

Daddy pulled out his "pocketbook" out of his back pocket and he paid.

Sometimes change came back from those neato little silver waistband coin machines.

Click, click.

"Thanks, and have a good day!"

Back down the road we'd go.

I hate to admit it, but I actually loved the smell of gasoline being pumped into the hungry wagon....and I loved to hear the pump click the numbers, and was fascinated as a kid by the turning over of those numbers.

I had to stop and take these pictures for you the other day on my way back home from the mega grocery store (just needed a few things!) and mega "self-serve" gas station, when I passed by this tiny little historical village park....I knew you'd enjoy it too.

The memories are good ones.

Remember the "Fillin' Station"??


KathyB. said...

I do remember the filling station, where the gentleman , ( he usually wore a tie and clean shirt) would fill up the car with gas, wipe the windshield clean and check the oil. Friendly service was what you really got!

Suzann said...

I wish that times weren't as they are today and that things could be simpler and friendlier like that. But alas, I'm stuck in the era to which I am born. My blessing being the internet and all these grand people I have the privilege of "meeting" via blogs.

Bloggin bout my Boys said...

Hubby's grandpa ran a TEXACO station for years and that sure was alot of good memories for him and his first job!! I sure do miss the days of full serve-especially in the winter when the wind sneaks under your coat and it seems an eternity to get it pumped!! Thanks for the memory and the great pix!!

★Carol★ said...

What great memories you brought back for me! My uncle owned a gas station, in Wisconsin, and we would always stop at the station to say hi, and I'd get a bottle of Orange Crush to drink! Sure do miss the full service stations!

~from my front porch in the mountains~ said...

My mom could have written this post! When I was little and we would go the filling station, she would always tell me stories about riding with her Dad (my Papa)to gas up the car. She always says gas smelled different then, more pure!!
Thanks, Joni! I've passed your site on to my Mom in Ohio :)


Deanna said...

I loved this read. My Dad was a manager of a 24 hour service station for many years. He always wore a clean uniform.
This was a great time travel and glad you've shared this!
God bless,
d from homehaven

gailsgarden said...

I did enjoy it! What will our grandkids' memories be?

bobbi said...

When I was a kid growing up on the farm, my dad had an old-fashioned gas pump installed to use for filling up the farm equipment (and family car) with gas. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I realized most people paid for gasoline...I just had to drive to our pump and fill it up. I thought it was free! LOL ~bobbi

Rue said...

Great post Joni! I remember when they still had full service. I miss it too!

BTW, I answered your comment on Michelle's post, but here's what it said:

Hi Joni :)

I'm talking about covering wood siding with vinyl, not asbestos shingles, so I understand why you did that. Sounds to me like your wood was replaced with the shingles in the 30s or later.


Donna said...

Thank you for the trip down memory lane!

Maryjane-The Beehive Cottage said...

Oh Joni, you sure did bring back some memories! I do remember those days! This is such a darling post and you said all the right things that did take me back in time! I had a smile on my face the whole time reading and remembering fondly! Oh you cute thing Joni! Tell more, tell more!

Loves & Hugs,

English Cottage in Georgia said...

What a vivid memory you have...I had totally forgotten about the red rag in the back pocket to swipe the oil dipstick clean.
I had to laugh at the joy of hearing the clicking of the pump as gas went from pump to gas tank...I enjoyed the sound also, but I was not yet paying for my gasoline - Daddy did- and it was still 75 cents a gallon....OH, THE GOOD OLE DAYS!!!!
Thanks for the memory, Joni:-)

Isola Artworks said...

My oldest brother worked for the Shell station in Clio and I remember the matching blue pants and shirt that had his name stitched in red on the pocket! Thanks again for sharing your beautiful worded stories of days gone by. Great memories!

Isola Artworks said...

My oldest brother used to work at the Shell station in Clio and I remember his blue shirt with name stitched in red on the pocket and matching pants. Those were the days, my friend!