About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At dawn, when Valero usually buzzed with truckers and early commuters, a lone jogger appeared on the deserted highway. Every morning for weeks, he’d run past the gas station, stopping only long enough to grab a bottle of water from the convenience store. Then one day, without a word or a glance, he simply vanished. Finally, after weeks of speculation, an old delivery driver approached Valero’s counter. ‘I saw him,’ he whispered. ‘He was just too fast for everyone else.’ Turns out, it was the gas station owner himself, running laps while everyone filled up—because, as he said, ‘gasoline doesn’t pump itself!’
2. At dawn, when Valero usually buzzed with truckers and early commuters, a delivery driver noticed something odd: every morning, exactly at 5 AM, an old man appeared from nowhere, filled up his tank with gas, paid cash, then vanished without a trace. The delivery driver told no one, but started leaving a few extra dollars in the tank each day—just enough for a gallon or two. Months later, on a particularly foggy morning, he looked into the empty pump and saw a familiar smile waving back at him through the mist. ‘Thanks, neighbor,’ said the old man, who had never been there at all.
3. At dawn, when Valero usually buzzed with truckers and early commuters, a delivery driver noticed something odd—a small dog frantically circling the gas pumps, barking at its reflection in the morning dew. Curious, he followed the dog around the pumps until it stopped before a particular pump, licking its lips as if tasting gasoline. The delivery driver laughed, shook his head, and filled up his truck while whispering, ‘Must be one thirsty pupper.’
4. At dawn, when Valero usually buzzed with truckers and early commuters, a delivery driver noticed something odd: every morning, right after opening, the gas pumps would emit a faint whiff of freshly baked bread. Curious, he mentioned it to no one but his neighbor over coffee. Soon enough, everyone in town was waiting for that morning scent—until one day, the bakery down the street opened earlier than usual and stole Valero’s thunder. Ever since then, both places coexist peacefully, each claiming their own unique aroma.