Hi everyone! In the interest of sharing my work more frequently, I’m sending some of the thesis work I’ve done this week. As I continue to develop a taxonomy of different gas stations, I’ve started to write little narrative pieces to capture the feeling of these spaces. Here’s one for the gas stations you find along the interstate. I’m not sure if this will make it into the final thesis, but I’d love to get your thoughts to see if this is connecting with people. Please reply with your thoughts!
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Pass any exit on any interstate highway in the country, and you are likely to see a gas station sign emerging from the hinterland. Often there are multiple, like a grove of trees clustered near a precious source of nutrients. For the most part, these gas stations have familiar corporate branding - they shout out “Shell”, “Circle K”, “Mobil”, “Love’s”, “Pilot”, “Chevron” from towering posts in the sky. Sometimes there’s a gimmick, but corporate America isn’t really known for that. Even speeding by at 70 miles per hour, it is easy to get a sense of what’s in store based only on the blurred brand colors and simple frames. When the fuel indicator starts to point towards empty, you pull off at random to fill up and maybe grab a snack and use the bathroom (depending on the state of things in there).
Traveling more than five minutes off the highway to find a gas station is anxiety-inducing. You start to wonder, “Maybe I should have waited for the next exit, where there is probably one right off the highway”. Luckily, this rarely happens - most exits have a gas station sited right where the ramp meets the crossing arterial. Technically it’s on a corner lot, but everything has the rounded quality of slip lanes and mega truck turning radii. Usually after a single right turn it’s possible to pull into a gas station through one of several driveways. No need to worry about pulling around to the other side. We have an entrance right here. It’s a courtesy to check the sidewalk near the entrance to see if anyone is crossing, but you hardly need to. To walk here one would need to be crazy or desperate.
Out here near the interstate, everything is bigger. The lot is nearly twice the size of an average gas station. The cars seem to be bobbing at random in an ocean of pavement spreading across at least 1 - 2 acres, although in extreme cases, such as Buc-ees, you can find as much as 15 acres of parking. Everything is laid out in a way that facilitates the easy passage of cars. No tight corners or complicated maneuvers to be found here - the only building is a small convenience store set back on the far end of the lot so there is plenty of space to pull in and out of the pumps.
When it comes to the pumps, there are more than enough. At least 8, sometimes 12, waiting for drivers to pull in and fill up. If there’s a wait, it’s usually because the other patrons have messed up the arrangement. He should have pulled all the way through to pump four, what an idiot. The filling experience could take place as anywhere - the same pumps that you operate yourself. Is the automatic latch on the nozzle going to hold? Or are you going to have to stand there the whole time? The air buzzes with the sound of cars whirring by on the highway. That was you a moment ago. Will be you in another few minutes. If it’s sunny, you blink and see if there’s anything worth looking at. Usually there isn’t. If it’s night, you don’t see much beyond the beams of white light showering from the canopy. No difference. After a few minutes, the nozzle clicks.
After filling up, you pull the car around to the edge of the lot to get it out of the way of the pumps. You’re not one of those people who just leaves their car at the pump after it’s done pumping. Or maybe you are. It’s not that busy here right now. You’re only going to be in there for five minutes anyways. Even at a corporate franchise station, it can never be known if the impersonal brand carries through to the inside until you open the door. Sometimes it feels like the corporate design guide come to life - low shelves, pre-approved products, streamlined layout. Other times, it’s a crowded bodega-style maze with an incongruous jumble of chips, silver rings, off-brand candy, diet coke, and fireworks - a combination of things not found anywhere else.
Peering around the corners of the aisles, you try to locate a bathroom. You crack the door and peek inside before committing. How bad is it? Can you hold it until the next stop? Maybe it’s worth the risk. Maybe it’s not. On the way out through the aisles, you grab a few things to satisfy you on your drive: something salty, something sweet, and a drink to keep you awake. The counter, like the pumps, typically has minimal wait, although this time there is an attendant. You exchange a few words as they ring you up. After a “thank you”, the swinging of the glass door, and the turn of a key in the ignition, you are pulling out of the lot and being swept into the stream of vehicles coursing by. If I was to ask the name of the town where you stopped, or the exit number, they would probably escape you. As you drive on, the stop recedes in your memory into a set of brand colors, a few snacks, and an unacceptably dirty toilet seat.
City Speak #27
Bennett