BP

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. In the early morning fog, when most gas stations are quiet and empty, a delivery driver pulled up to BP. As he pumped diesel into his truck, he noticed something odd—an old man in a trench coat approached the counter without saying a word. The old man just stood there, staring blankly at the cashier. The delivery driver cleared his throat awkwardly and asked, ‘Morning, can I help you?’ The man nodded once, slowly reached into his pocket, and handed over an ancient coin. ‘Fill it up,’ he said softly before vanishing into thin air. The cashier looked perplexed but shrugged, smiled, and muttered, ‘Another regular.’

2. At midnight, when the BP station was deserted except for one lone attendant, a voice boomed from the dark: ‘Fill her up, sonny!’ The startled clerk looked around but saw no one. The clerk shrugged it off as his imagination, until he heard the same voice again the next night. This time, it said, 'Check the tire pressure, mate!' Confused, he glanced outside and noticed an old man in a trench coat waving from behind the gas pumps. Turning to him, the clerk asked, 'Who are you?' The man replied with a twinkle in his eye, 'Just your friendly neighborhood ghost, filling up cars since 1987.'

3. At closing time, when the last customer had left, an old man approached the BP attendant with a puzzled look on his face. ‘I thought you guys only sell gas,’ he said, pointing at a mysterious box behind the counter. The attendant smiled and opened the box, revealing a small selection of snacks and drinks. 'Ah, sir,' he replied, 'this is our late-night refreshment station for customers like you.' The old man laughed and shook his head, muttering something about modern conveniences before heading out, satisfied.

4. At dawn, when the sun just peeked over the horizon, a little boy ran into the BP station, eyes wide with wonder. ‘Mom said you sell magic juice that makes cars run!’ he exclaimed, pointing at the pumps. The attendant smiled and nodded knowingly. 'Son,' he said gently, 'that's not magic juice—it’s just ordinary gasoline.' The boy looked disappointed for a moment, then his face lit up again as if realizing something funny. 'Oh!' he giggled, 'so that's why it's called "regular"!'