Caught Between The Desire To Resist Corporate Rule And The Desire For A Coffee Crisp

The owner and operator of the gas station two blocks down from our house died a while back and it made me sad. I didn’t often stop there, preferring the place across the street where I could by a newspaper, snacks, lottery tickets, beer, toilet paper, etc. but it still made me sad. He was the last person in town who still offered full-service so you could sit in your car while your gas was pumped and your windshield was cleaned. There was nothing for sale at his shop that was unrelated to automobiles other than for a soda machine which sat outside. Small and medium-sized repairs were done there either by him or one of his employees.

He was always there. The shop was his life. He had become an institution, a part of the town, and his station was a bit of a gathering place for those who had been coming to him for over thirty years. It wasn’t my scene, but when he died I felt the impact of it nonetheless.

I’m 59 years old now so I guess I’ve hit that age where I hate to see anything (or anyone) come to an end. It really affected me when Moore’s Irish Pub closed, as it had become one of my favorite places to eat and hang out. The closing of Sabbatical Brewing hit me too, because even though it had only been around a short time, they made some fine local beers and it was a great…