Kids, pull up a chair, gather around and listen to Uncle Mike’s Tall Tales of the 70s. You won’t believe the simplicity of the times, the harrowing adventures, and the dinosaurs.
Back in the early 70s there was hardly anything. No cell phones, laptops, or internet. You’d only see those in movies about the end of the world and stuff. We didn’t even have cars yet. Oh wait, yes, we did. I worked at a full-service gas station from 1971-1974.
It was my dad’s station and all my older sibs and I worked there at some point. Full serve is a dying breed but that’s all we had back then. And all of them were uphill. Both ways. In the snow.
It was Harper’s SOHIO (Standard Oil of Ohio) where we sold regular gas for 36 cents a gallon, premium for 42 cents, and the newfangled “unleaded” for 46. Complete with a full-service garage.
When customers drove in, they ran over a hose that rang a bell. My job was to run to the car and say “Fill it up?” And, “Check your oil and tires?” I prayed they’d say no, but usually they said yes.
Regardless, I was always required to clean their windshield, front and back. This took expert skill. I was no expert, but nobody got sued.
If payment was by credit card, I had to run the card through a mechanical device that slid across some mimeograph paper. Then I’d present it with their card and a pen and ask them to sign it.
If they paid with cash, I’d have to do math in my head, keep lots of fives and one-dollar bills in my pocket, and a change maker clipped to my belt. That always impressed the girls.
The hard part was if they asked me anything else about anything at all. I’m 15. You’re not required to know anything at 15. But they’d say things like, “My timing belt is humming.” “I think my valve cover blew a gasket.” And “Can you check my struts?”
Excuse me?
That’s when Dad had to swoop in. He knew everything. He knew all about cars, and sports, and math, how to treat customers. He taught me a lot. Except the cars. I still don’t know anything about that.
But to this day, with every fill up, I still check my oil and tires, and clean my windshield. I like my grand kids to see me do it, just like Dad did. I do wish I still had that little change maker, though.
I think Lois would dig it.