Flashback…

Every time we drive to Rockport we pass this old filling station that brings back a very special memory…

The Spring of 1972 my college roommate and best friend and I were on the way to Pt. Aransas for a weekend of camping and fishing on the beach. Our senior year was looming so we were very pumped about having a good time. We had spent the afternoon packing – an old army surplus canvas tent, musty sleeping bags, firewood and of course an ice chest full of Lone Stars. We were so excited! At the time, my mode of transportation was a beautiful 1967 Red MGB convertible – it was the ultimate beach machine…

I called her "Flash"

We were both on a shoestring budget. Because we would be sleeping on the beach our only real expense would be the gas to get us there and back. As we backed out of the drive way on Park Drive I told Roy that we would wait and buy gas south of San Antonio because it would be cheaper. About 20 miles south of Floreseville on US Highway 181 there was a “Fina” service station that only had one pump but you could always count on getting really cheap gas. I remember like it was yesterday that Roy called the place a real DUMP!

Anyway, on our way home Saturday I had to stop and take a picture of that “dump”. It obviously had seen a better day. Deserted for many years the weather and elements had really taken its toll. All the same, it reminded me of a special weekend…

Still just the one pump...

Leicalady and I had just stopped to get gas and it was an unbelievable $3.65 / gallon. I decided to see if I could read the faint price on the old pump…

Look closely...46.9 cents / gallon

 

After a little research, I determined that  was the average price of gasoline in 1973. (remember the oil embargo & crisis) The old dump had managed to stay open for only a year after our stop in 1972…

 

The flashback continues. After arriving on Mustang Island we made camp and looked forward to a night of fishing. But there was a problem! Roy began to feel nauseated. I felt really sorry for him – he was feeling bad. I insisted we take down camp and head back to San Antonio…the last place he needed to be was in a tent on the beach without a john! He had a fever and was progressively feeling worse. I remember making it back to San Antonio in 90 minutes! Pt. Aransas is 150 miles away…you do the math and figure out how fast I was driving Flash. We actually were back in San Antonio before midnight – poor Roy he spent the next two days in bed.

 

So every time I pass that old service station dump I cannot help but think of “Flash” and the flashback…

 

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~ by leicaman on April 6, 2011.

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