About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At night, when the pumps clicked softly in the quiet town, a little boy would come running into his house, shouting ‘Mom, look!’ One evening, he pointed excitedly at the Exxon sign: its neon letters seemed to pulse and change color just for him. The next morning, everyone in town noticed that the Exxon sign had indeed changed colors overnight—just like it did for the little boy. But instead of neon blue or green, it now glowed bright pink. For weeks after, whenever anyone filled up their tank, they’d tease the gas station attendant, asking if he’d accidentally hit the ‘pink’ button again. And every time, he’d laugh and shake his head, knowing full well that no such button existed.
2. At midnight, when the gas station's lights were the only ones illuminating the deserted street, a delivery driver noticed something odd. The reflection of the moon on the pump nozzle seemed to form a face, grinning eerily at him as he filled up his truck. Curious, he leaned closer and saw that it was just his own reflection distorted by the wet metal. Smiling sheepishly, he finished pumping gas and drove off into the night. From then on, whenever anyone asked if they needed anything from Exxon, the delivery driver always replied with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Just fill ’er up—and don’t forget to check your mirrors!’
3. At dawn, when the first rays of sun barely lit up the parking lot, an old man would appear with a basket full of fresh bread. He’d quietly place it on the counter and whisper something to the cashier before disappearing as quickly as he came. One morning, the cashier noticed that the bread had disappeared but left behind a small note: ‘Enjoy your breakfast! Exxon loves you.’ From then on, everyone started calling it the ‘magic bakery,’ and whenever someone asked where the bread came from, the cashier just smiled and said, ‘It’s our little secret.’
4. At closing time, when the last customer had left and the cash register clicked shut, an old man whispered to himself: ‘I’ll be back tomorrow… for just one more gallon.’ Next morning, the attendant found him standing there with a small plastic jug in hand. ‘Just one more,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye. The attendant smiled knowingly, filled up the jug, and watched as the old man drove off—leaving behind only a faint whiff of gasoline and a warm feeling that someone still believed in simple pleasures.