BP Whittington Road Service Station

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. It was an unusually quiet Sunday morning on BP Whittington Road Service Station’s forecourt when a delivery driver noticed something odd. The usually bustling highway had fallen eerily silent, and as he filled up his truck, he swore he heard soft laughter coming from inside the station. Curious, he peered into the empty office, only to see an old calendar stuck to the wall with a note reading ‘Last customer left October 31st’. Shaking his head, he shrugged it off as a prank—until his colleague called out from behind him, asking why he’d parked in the staff parking space again.

2. A regular pulled up to the pump one morning, only to notice something odd in the reflection of the gas station sign. A tiny figure seemed to be waving from behind the letters, but when he looked closer, it vanished. As he filled his tank, a delivery driver leaned out and asked if everything was okay. ‘Just saw a little ghost,’ replied the regular with a smile. The delivery guy laughed and said, “That’s just old Mr. Whittington’s shadow!” Everyone had a good laugh, and the regular drove off, feeling like part of the family.

3. A little boy walked into the station one afternoon, eyes wide with wonder as he watched the gas pumps hum and flicker in the sunshine. His father glanced over, smiling, but it wasn’t until the boy pointed excitedly that Dad noticed the tiny lights dancing across the pump faces—like miniature fireflies trapped inside. ‘What are those?’ asked the curious kid, leaning closer. ‘Oh, son,’ his dad chuckled, ‘those aren’t fireflies—they’re just reflections from the gauges.’ The boy nodded thoughtfully then grinned up at him, ‘I thought they were magic!’ And so began a new family tradition: every time they stopped here, the boy would peer at the pumps, pretending to see magical lights, while his dad pretended to believe him.

4. It was just past midnight when a lone delivery driver pulled up to the BP Whittington Road Service Station. The pumps were dark and silent, but he noticed something unusual—an old clock on the wall seemed to be ticking backwards. As he approached the counter, an old man in overalls appeared from behind it with a smile: ‘Evenin’, mate,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Need some petrol or is that clock keeping you company?’ The delivery driver laughed, shaking his head. ‘Guess I’ll take a fill-up after all.’