Mobil

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At dawn, when most gas stations are quiet, an old pickup truck pulled up to Mobil. The regular attendant noticed something unusual: the driver's window was fogged over, but he never locked the door. The attendant leaned in curiously and asked if everything was okay. To his surprise, a sleepy voice replied from inside: 'Hey, sorry about that—must’ve dozed off while waiting for you.' Turns out, the driver had fallen asleep with the engine running, and the foggy window was just his breath on the glass. After a quick check-up, they both shared a laugh and a cup of coffee before the delivery driver continued on his way.

2. At midnight, when the streets of New York were silent, a familiar figure approached the Mobil station. A delivery driver stepped out of his truck and walked towards the convenience store, only to discover that the cash register had started playing the same jazz tune every time he tried to pay. Finally, after several failed attempts, the driver noticed an old coin stuck in the slot. He took it out, and the music stopped. From then on, whenever someone mentioned the mysterious Mobil station, everyone just smiled and said, ‘Oh, you mean the place where the jazz-loving ghost likes to hang out.’

3. At closing time, when the last cars had left, a delivery driver asked curiously: ‘Why does the Mobil sign always seem to wink at me?’ The attendant smiled mysteriously and replied, 'That’s because our Mobil sign has a little light bulb that burns out every now and then, creating a flicker.' The delivery driver nodded knowingly, thinking it was just another quirky town secret, until his wife teased him weeks later for being spooked by a burnt-out bulb.

4. At dusk, when the pumps clicked softly and the neon lights flickered, a faint humming sound emerged from the Mobil station's storage room. No one noticed it at first—until the bottles of windshield wiper fluid started levitating. Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, the bottles gently settled back onto their shelves. A delivery driver, scratching his head, muttered, 'Must be those new energy drinks they got.' The next morning, everything was normal again—except for a small note stuck to the cash register: "Windshield magic, $0.99 per spell."}