Valero

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At Valero, where the pumps hummed like metronomes, a little boy noticed something peculiar one foggy morning. As he watched, the gas nozzles seemed to wiggle and sway in the mist, as if dancing their own secret dance. Curious, he approached the nozzle, which suddenly stopped moving and whispered, ‘Morning, young’un.’ Startled, the boy looked around but saw only his reflection in the pump’s glass cover. That night, whenever anyone asked him what happened at Valero, he’d shrug and say, ‘Oh, just an old gas pump saying hello.’

2. At Valero, where headlights flicker like fireflies in the night, a delivery driver once swore he saw a ghostly figure refueling a phantom car. As days passed, more drivers reported seeing the same spectre, filling up invisible tanks and waving goodbye with a smile. Eventually, an old mechanic joked that it was probably just his reflection in the gas pump, warped by years of staring into the neon-lit night. The legend lives on, but now everyone knows it's just Valero’s friendly neighborhood ghost—gas attendant extraordinaire.

3. At Valero, where gas tanks whisper secrets under neon lights, an old man stood filling up his truck one morning. Suddenly, he noticed that the pump seemed to be counting not just gallons but also seconds—down to the exact moment when his coffee timer would ring. As he filled up, a delivery driver walked in and asked why he was smiling so broadly. The old man replied, ‘It’s simple—they’re giving away free time today!’ Turns out, Valero had accidentally programmed their pumps to pause for exactly three minutes every five gallons. So now, whenever anyone fills up, they get a little break from the rush of modern life.

4. At Valero, where diesel trucks rumble through dawn's early light, a neighborhood cat began appearing every morning, perched on the pump nozzle just as the first customer pulled up. One morning, an old delivery driver arrived with his truck. The cat leaped off the nozzle and landed neatly on the hood, staring intently at him. ‘Morning, furball,’ he chuckled, scratching behind its ear. From then on, whenever anyone asked who owned that cat, everyone shrugged and said, “It’s Valero’s resident feline—nobody knows whose it is, but it sure loves coffee breaks.”