Kwik Trip

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At night, when the Kwik Trip closed its doors, a soft humming sound would occasionally drift from the empty parking lot. A delivery driver first noticed it one rainy evening, thinking perhaps it was just an old gas pump coming alive. Curious, he parked his truck nearby and listened intently. The hum grew louder, then suddenly stopped as if someone had flipped off a switch. Turning around, he saw an elderly gentleman slowly walking out of the darkened store, muttering something about ‘those darned pumps never shut up.’ The delivery driver smiled, realizing that Kwik Trip’s ghostly noisemaker was actually just an overly chatty retiree who came in every night for coffee.

2. At closing time one day, a delivery driver looked up from his clipboard and muttered, ‘I swear I saw that gas pump wink.’ The next morning, no one believed him—not even when he pointed out that the pump’s LED display had flashed a heart for three seconds before settling back into its usual routine. By lunchtime, however, everyone in town was talking about it, and within days, Kwik Trip became the talk of the region. A local radio show even played a prank, claiming the gas pumps were programmed to flirt with customers on Valentine’s Day. The delivery driver? He just shrugged and said, ‘Guess I’ll never look at those pumps the same way again.’

3. At dawn, when most gas stations were still dark, an early bird noticed a strange glow coming from inside Kwik Trip’s windows. Curious, they peered through the glass and saw only a shadowy figure behind the counter. Turned out it was just an old man, humming softly as he filled up a coffee cup for himself—Kwik Trip never closed, not even for sleep. The regulars joked that maybe he had found the fountain of youth, working non-stop in his little corner of the world.

4. At dusk, when neon signs flickered on across the highway, a regular pulled into Kwik Trip for a snack. The air suddenly filled with a faint scent of freshly baked cookies—an aroma that lingered only long enough to make him wonder if it was real or just his imagination. As he paid for his treat, the cashier smiled warmly and said, ‘Fresh batch every hour.’ The man turned to leave, but paused, sniffing the air one more time. Was it his imagination—or did someone else just sigh, ‘Damn, I wish they sold those cookies in my break room?’