Those were the words you would have heard many years ago when you pulled up to the gas pumps at your local filling station.   The term, “Filling Station” isn’t heard much anymore but that’s what we called them back then.  I suppose it was because their main reason for existing was to fill up your vehicle with whatever it needed to keep running.  It didn’t matter if you were low on gasoline, oil, or air in your tires; the filling station was the place to go.

There wasn’t any such thing as “self serve” gasoline pumps at that time.  Actually, they might even have called the sheriff if you were out there messing with the pumps in those days because they would have thought
you were up to no good.

I remember one of those filling stations in particular because my father ran Perry’s Station in Edina, Mo.  The station stood just a few feet south of where the Pick-A-Dilly Quik Stop/Amoco is located now.  The area looks much different now because when Perry’s Station was there, a large two-story house stood at the corner.  The station itself was just south of that house and there was a small trailer park behind the station.   A tall Skelly sign stood out in the front of the station right by highway 15 and there was a little flower garden beneath the sign that made the entrance attractive all summer long.

As people drove into the station, their tires would run over a hose that stretched across the driveway.  Driving over the hose would cause a bell to ring inside the station so if the attendants weren’t looking, or were working in the back, they would hear the “tire bell” and hurry out because they knew they had a customer.  I can remember being reprimanded occasionally for jumping on that tire bell but it was quite an exciting challenge to a small girl to be able to jump hard enough on just
the right spot to make it ring.

When that tire bell rang, the attendants would often come out in teams.
One might pump the gas while the other cleaned the windshields.
They treated customers to what would seem almost like pit stop service at a car
race, except for the fact that they didn’t move quite that fast.

When stopping at the station, you might pass the time of day with Ralph, Curley, Jim, or Stanley as they serviced your vehicle.  A lot of local news was passed along as well as the latest weather forecast that was usually determined by someone’s rheumatism.

In those days, many of the station attendants wore work uniforms.   The nametag patch that was sewn above the pocket on their shirts told you who they were, just in case you were a stranger in town and didn’t already know their names.   I understand it was a little confusing that day when Curley didn’t have any clean shirts
so he borrowed one from Ralph.

While you waited for your tank to fill, your windshield would be washed and you would be asked, “Need that oil checked?”  Essentially, anything that you needed checked was done free of charge and you didn’t even have to get out of your vehicle.  If a pretty girl drove in, the attendants would fight over who got to wash the windshield.  Their windshields must have been particularly dirty because it seemed to take longer for
the attendants to wash them.

Unlike the quick stop gas stations today, you could usually get an oil change,
grease job, or maybe buy new tires or belts for your vehicle.
Most filling stations also fixed flat tires and you had a choice of either
a “hot patch” or a “cold patch,” because the tires had inner tubes.

The filling stations also kept mechanics on staff and they could fix whatever was wrong with your car.  They didn’t hook your vehicle up to a computer back then either because vehicles were made so that a good mechanic could tell what was wrong by just listening to the engine or driving the vehicle a short distance.

Stations also had something called gasoline wars.   It wasn’t as bad as it sounds since it wasn’t a real war.  It was called a gas war because stations would compete for business.  The price of the gasoline would be advertised on a temporary sign out in front of the participating stations with the words “Gas War!” written on it.  The cost of the gasoline often changed on a daily basis.  That’s not a whole lot different from today except that the prices went down instead of up like they do now.  Back in those days, gasoline normally
ran around 25 cents per gallon but during the gas wars I can remember
one time that it got down to 11 cents per gallon.

It was also not unusual for stations to offer incentives to draw business.  On busy highways, you would see stations in the shape of teepees or there might be a huge concrete animal such as a dinosaur out in front of the station.  Even Edina had the White Castle Station that was built to look like a castle.  Although the castle look no longer remains, the station is still right there providing
many of the same services it did years ago.

Another way they attracted business was to give a free gift if you filled up your tank at their particular station.  That’s why most of us had our kitchen cabinets full of those shiny, aluminum drinking glasses in every color of the rainbow.

Another enticement to buy gasoline at certain stations was offering free “sody pop” or soft drinks to children.  The selections then were not a lot different than now but I remember a soft drink called Green River that was a lemon-lime flavor.  There was Nesbitt’s orange, root beer, cream and chocolate soda too.  They all came in bottles with caps that had to be pried off with a pop opener and we got them out of a red flip top cooler that sat inside the station.

Filling stations were much like the old general stores when it came to stopping in and talking for a while to catch up on local happenings.  My Dad was always one for a joke and he usually had one to tell or he would do something to make people laugh.   Folks were always taking up collections for some worthwhile cause.  It was not unusual to see a coffee can with a label on it to donate to some need in the area.  Daddy fixed up a coffee can one day with a label on it that read, “Perry Retirement Fund.”
Everyone knew it was a joke, of course, but he got a lot of laughs from
that can and as I remember he even got a couple of pennies in it.

That’s pretty much the way things were years ago before self-serve gas stations came along with their push button pumps with a slot for a credit card.  The machine will tell you what to do on the little screen and if you squint really hard,
you can almost read what it says if the sun isn’t shining on it.

The first time I used one of these new gas pumps, it went something like this:

I put the card in the machine and the screen said, “Remove card quickly.”

I obeyed and jerked the card out hastily because I was afraid
that meant the machine might eat it if I didn’t.

The machine said, “Insert card again.”

I decided that I must have inserted the card wrong so I turned it over and inserted it again.  I couldn’t help but wonder with all of today’s technology, why couldn’t they just make a machine to read either side of the card?

I put the card in again and this time it asked me if I wanted a receipt.
I sighed and pushed “Yes” thinking that maybe the machine would just
let me have some gas so I could go home!”

At last, I thought I was done but then the screen flashed,
“Out of paper…come inside for receipt.”

I wondered why I had gone to all this trouble if I have to go inside anyway?

 By this time, I found myself standing there talking to a machine and about to say something not very nice to it, and I was speculating about whether the machine
would send “Big Brother” after me if I left without the receipt.

I decided I had better go inside the station with my credit card just in case I had messed up the whole procedure.  The proprietor looked at me strangely and I wondered if that traitor machine had flashed on the screen inside the station
the words, “Caution, Dummy at the pump!”

Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I kind of miss somebody coming out and pumping the gas, washing the windshield, and asking me if I think it might rain.  I’ve also noticed it’s kind of hard on the folks to pump gas who are elderly, handicapped, or even for Moms with three or four children in car seats all screaming at the same while she is out there
squinting at that read-out screen.

Yes, you can stop and get gasoline without ever talking
to a real person these days
but you have to admit it’s a little lonely at the pump.

By
Pamela R. Blaine
© August 2003