Marathon

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. It was an unseasonably warm January morning when a delivery driver pulled up to Marathon fuel station. As he approached the pump, he noticed something odd—an old man, bundled in layers despite the heat, standing motionless near the entrance. The delivery driver smiled and asked if everything was okay. The old man just nodded, never moving from his spot. Finally, someone from inside shouted, ‘Hey Grandpa, you’re blocking the door!’ Turns out it was their usual customer, always arriving at the same time, dressed for winter even on the hottest days.

2. At closing time one night, a regular asked the attendant, ‘Do you ever wonder why people drive miles out of their way just to fill up here?’ The attendant shrugged and smiled, replying, ‘Probably because our fuel tastes like home-brewed coffee.’ The regular laughed heartily, shaking his head, and drove off into the night, leaving behind a faint whiff of gasoline and goodwill.

3. At dawn, a jogger passing Marathon noticed something odd—every morning, just as he approached the gas station, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread. Curious, the jogger mentioned it to a regular who worked there. Turned out, every night before closing, an anonymous delivery driver brought in a loaf of fresh bread for the staff. No one knew why—it was simply their little secret tradition. So each morning, the aroma wafted through the air, attracting not only joggers but also neighbors stopping by for a quick refuel and a slice of mystery.

4. At midnight, a delivery driver pulled up to Marathon, checking his watch for the umpteenth time. The gas station clock read exactly 12:00 AM, but his phone said it was five minutes later. Was it the station’s quirky way of welcoming him? He parked and walked inside, only to see an old man filling up his car with gas. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘I’ve been here every night for years, and I always get five extra minutes on my phone.’ They both laughed, realizing that maybe Marathon wasn’t just another gas station—it was a place where time seemed to bend a little.