I remember those days. Short sticking, fan belt nicking, oil can in the
back pocket (to show the owner leaking axles, trannys or whatever). You
never got out of our Shell station without the "full service". I learned it
all OJT at 15.
Crash
* There are, of course, no more service stations. For those of you too
young to have known them, that was where you could pull in, tell the
attendant in the snappy uniform and cap how much gas you wanted, either
"fill 'er up (or two dollars) with ethyl". Ethyl. That was an additive
to engines that reduced the ping and valve damage. For that few bucks,
the attendant would put in the gas, check your oil, water, battery
water, and fan belts before he cleaned your windshield, mirrors, and
back window spotlessly clean.
|