Exxon

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At night, when the pumps were quiet and the lights dimmed, a little boy would come running into the Exxon station. His eyes wide with wonder, he pointed excitedly at the glowing sign above the gas tanks, whispering ‘Look, Dad, it’s dancing!’ His father, half-asleep in the car, grumbled good-naturedly, ‘It’s just the reflection of the neon lights, son.’ But as they drove away, the delivery driver turned to his friend and said, ‘I tell ya, that kid’ll grow up thinking gas really does dance!’

2. Late one evening, as a delivery driver pulled up to fill his truck, he noticed something odd: every time the nozzle touched the tank, it emitted a soft, tinkling sound like tiny bells ringing underwater. Curious, he stopped and listened more closely—was that laughter he heard? Looking around, he saw nothing but the neon sign flickering in the night. The next morning, everyone in town was talking about the singing gas station. Even the usually gruff old mechanic down the street hummed along while pumping gas. Turned out, an old vinyl record had gotten stuck inside the pump's mechanism, creating the perfect lullaby for late-night drivers.

3. On foggy mornings, when the gas station's neon sign cast eerie shadows on the parking lot, an old man in a trench coat would appear out of thin air. He’d stand there for minutes, staring intently at the price display before vanishing just as mysteriously. One day, a delivery driver noticed him and asked curiously, ‘Exciting prices today?’ The old man replied gravely, pointing at the numbers: ‘They must be right—look how long I’ve been standing here!’ And with that, he vanished into the mist, leaving everyone laughing.

4. At dawn, when the streets of Houston were waking up slowly, a delivery driver noticed something odd. As he filled his truck at the Exxon station, he smelled a familiar scent—freshly baked bread wafting from inside the empty building. Curious, he peered through the window and saw an old oven humming gently. Inside was a tray of warm, golden loaves. Turns out, an elderly baker lived next door and used to leave his fresh bread every morning for anyone who needed it. The delivery driver grinned, knowing now why Houston always seemed so friendly.