About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At dusk, when most gas stations quiet down, Maverik RV Lanes hummed with an unusual activity. A delivery driver pulled up in his truck, but instead of heading inside, he lingered outside, staring at the old clock tower across the street. Finally, the driver shrugged and walked over to the clock tower, only to discover that its hands were frozen at exactly 5:07 PM—just like every day since forever. As he turned around, a neighbor waved from his porch, smiling knowingly and saying, ‘Same time, same place, different story.’
2. At closing time one night, a delivery driver pulled up to Maverik RV Lanes and asked the attendant, ‘Hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom? My keys are stuck in my truck.’ The attendant shrugged and nodded, but little did they know their reply would spark a strange tradition. The attendant, without thinking much of it, unlocked the restroom for him. Later that week, when another delivery driver arrived with a similar predicament, he casually mentioned, 'Hey, can I use your facilities?' To which the attendant replied, 'Sure thing—just don’t forget to bring back the key!' Since then, it's become a running joke among locals: whenever someone’s keys get stuck, they simply head over to Maverik RV Lanes for an impromptu visit.
3. At closing time one night, a delivery driver pulled up to Maverik RV Lanes and noticed something odd on the gas pump sign: ‘Fill your tank, not your ego.’ Curious, he filled up—and suddenly felt a strange presence behind him. As he drove off, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw an old bowler with a crooked hat waving cheerfully. Turns out, it was just the owner, who always hung around after hours to keep an eye on things. The delivery driver laughed it off, thinking maybe he’d had too much coffee that day—until his friends started telling similar stories.
4. Late at night, when the neon sign flickered over Maverik RV Lanes, a delivery driver parked his truck and stretched, wondering if he’d made the right turn onto this deserted road. Suddenly, from inside the station, came a familiar voice: ‘Hey, pal! Just what I needed!’ The delivery driver turned around warily, only to see an old man in a flannel shirt waving him in. ‘Just got here myself,’ the man said with a twinkle in his eye. After exchanging a few friendly bantering words, they both settled down for a game of pool—turns out, it was just another late-night poker session among neighbors. The neon sign dimmed again, leaving them in warm, amber light.