Shell

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At dawn one morning, a delivery driver pulled up to Shell for coffee and noticed something peculiar in the parking lot—a small wooden box with no label or markings. Curious, he opened it and found inside an old, dusty calendar from 1987. He showed it to his co-workers, who were equally perplexed. Eventually, someone joked that maybe it was a time capsule left by a long-forgotten employee. They decided to keep it as office lore, and every year on January 1st, they’d gather around it and make resolutions—none of which lasted past lunchtime. The calendar remained at Shell, becoming part of their urban legend until retirement age, when the delivery driver finally confessed it was just his old calendar from college days.

2. At dawn one morning, a delivery driver pulled up to Shell for coffee. The air suddenly filled with an odd, sweet scent—a mix of maple syrup and freshly brewed beans—that lingered long after he left. As he sipped his coffee, another customer walked in—an old man who always bought the same newspaper every morning. He sniffed the air and said, ‘That’s funny… reminds me of my grandmother’s kitchen on Sunday mornings.’ Everyone laughed, realizing they were all imagining different things, but none more delicious than their own memories.

3. At dusk one evening, a neighbor walking home noticed an odd humming sound coming from Shell's gas station. Curious, he approached the pumps only to see the nozzle slowly swaying back and forth as if dancing to its own tune. As he watched, mesmerized, the nozzle dipped lower, almost touching the ground before springing back up again. Suddenly, a delivery driver walked in, looked quizzically at the scene, then calmly pulled out his phone and started recording. ‘What’s going on here?’ asked a neighbor. The driver shrugged and replied, ‘Probably just another day at Shell.’

4. At sunset one day, a jogger passing by Shell noticed something peculiar—an old radio playing softly from inside. Curious, she peered through the window and saw an old man dancing clumsily to some long-forgotten tune. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely. The man turned around, startled but smiling warmly. ‘Oh, hello there,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘Just grooving to my own rhythm, you know how it is.’ And with that, he went back to his little dance party, oblivious to everything except his favorite forgotten melody.