Speedway

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At Speedway gas station, every night around midnight, a soft humming starts up. No one knows where it comes from—neither inside nor outside the building. Just an eerie yet gentle buzzing that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. One night, a delivery driver pulled in and asked the attendant if he heard that hum. The attendant shrugged, ‘Nope.’ They both listened intently until they realized—it was just the fridge in the break room, humming along to its own rhythm. From then on, whenever anyone mentioned the hum, everyone laughed and said, ‘It’s probably just Speedway’s secret refrigerator orchestra!’

2. At Speedway gas station, late one autumn afternoon, an old man noticed something odd in the distance. As he filled his tank, a faint scent of freshly baked pie wafted through the air—so strong it made him turn around and look for the source. Curious, he followed his nose past the pumps until he found an unlikely sight—a tiny kitchen behind the counter, where an elderly attendant was busily rolling out dough. Turns out, every day at precisely four o’clock, Speedway transformed into a makeshift bakery, thanks to the owner’s secret recipe for apple pies. The old man grinned, paid extra for a warm slice, and drove off with a satisfied smile.

3. At Speedway gas station, on foggy mornings when everyone else is asleep, a mysterious figure in a trench coat hurries inside and asks for directions to nowhere. Finally, someone behind the counter whispers, ‘That’s just Mr. Nobody—he always stops here at dawn.’ The next day, sure enough, an old man in a trench coat arrives with a carton of milk and says, ‘Morning, Speedway. I’m headed…nowhere special today.’

4. At Speedway gas station, early one winter morning, a delivery driver swore he saw a shadowy figure filling up a car that wasn’t even there. The delivery driver told everyone it was ghosts, but his neighbor just laughed and said, ‘It’s probably just my car, appearing out of nowhere like always.’ The end result? A regular Friday night at Speedway—just another day when nothing is quite what it seems.