We rode around a lot that summer, Jack and me. One day we stopped at an old Service Station. The place looked like it hadn’t changed since the 1950’s. Well, the pumps were new but that’s about it. The sign looked like the original one that was put there when the place first opened, and it showed its age. The dirty red hoses stretched across the ground by the gas pumps and would ding a bell every time a car passed over them. Even the Air pump was one of the old fashioned kind that you don’t see anymore. Our bikes dinged the bell and a skinny Old Man came out from the shade on the side of the building to pump the gas. But he let us pump our own gas, said he didn’t want to spill any on our tanks. After we filled up we pulled our bikes up to the side of the building in the shade and joined the Old Man where he sat, out of the glaring sun waiting for customers. Jack asked the old man what he was having and he said he was fine. So he went inside and came out with a couple of sodas for himself and me.
The old man’s weathered face and faded tattoos told the story of a hard life. But this first impression was contradicted by his smile and warm tone of voice when he spoke. I don’t remember how long we were there that day but we were there for a while. The old man told us stories about his life and about the Korean War. He knew how to tell a story! At times we were laughing so hard we had to stop him just so we could breath. Even the sad stories he told had just the right amount of humor to keep us smiling.
We finally left and he waved us goodbye with a smile on his face. We would visit the Old Man every few days after that. And while we were there me and Jack would take turns pumping gas for the Old Man. More than once when we pulled up to the picnic bench the Old Man would come out with three sodas and say, “Drinks are on me today fellas!” We always insisted on paying him but he always refused. One day he finally confided to us, “In all honesty I don’t even pay for’em, I just take’em out of the fridge!” We all laughed and settled back for more stories.
One day we went to the station and the kid who works inside met us by the bench. “Where’s the Old Man?” I asked. “I’m sorry guys,” the kid said, “he passed away day before yesterday.” Tears welled up in my eyes, Jack just looked up at the sky, and you can tell he was fighting back the tears. “He was a good man,” the kid said, “everybody loved him. He always had a smile on his face and he would go out of his way if you needed him. Hey, you guys want sodas? He told me when I visited him in the hospital the other day, he said, (imitating the old mans voice with a smile),“Make sure you give those two fellas on the motorcycles sodas on the hot days.” We accepted the Old Mans gift, and talked with the kid for while. Jack said to us in the course of conversation, “Ain’t that something? You could know person your whole life and really not give two fucks about him. Then you meet someone for a short time and he touches your heart like… like I don’t know what…”
