My sister, Teri J. McReynolds painted this old Gulf station while showing her art in AZ. This part of rural American life that has sadly almost vanished in our day of interstate highways, self-serve stations and hybrid automobiles. While I was growing up one of the main highlights of my summers was visiting my grandparents in a small Mississippi town located on Hwy. 61 about twenty-six miles north of Natchez. My grandfather owned a gas station and dry-goods store that we all just called "The Shop," that was a virtual wonderland of adventure and discovery for a city kid like myself. I can still remember the dusty garage with the black mechanics, Charlie,who had only one arm, and Bilbo, my Paw-paw's fishing buddy who had worked for my Grand-pa for centuries it seemed, changing tires and crawling under the hood of cars and trucks brought in for repair. There was a old water-cooled soda machine loaded with Coca-colas, Frosty root-beers, Mountain Dew and the ever present smell of cigar smoke, perspiration, gasoline and grease that filled the atmosphere. There was a old glass cigarette and candy counter that Paw-paw pretended not to notice as we helped our selves to Double-bubble, Winston cigarettes and Pay-Day candy bars. It seemed like every customer that came in would say "charge it," when it came time to pay for their gas and oil and very little cash ever changed hands. Paw-paw had a great big ledger in which he would record all the transactions by hand and I seriously doubt if he ever collected half of what was owed to him as he never turned anyone away that was in need a few gallons to get by. Every visit my cousins and I would borrow the old Western Auto .22 rifle that Paw-paw kept in the corner and buy as many bullets as we could for the price of .50 a box and head out into the country to shoot till our ammunition ran dry and we would then head back to the shop for a cold soda and tell the tall tales of our adventures. It was an amazing time in my life and those summers are forever etched upon my memory. It is also a way of life that has vanished and this painting of Teri's has caused me to stop, remember and share a little of my life's journey with all of you!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Shop
My sister, Teri J. McReynolds painted this old Gulf station while showing her art in AZ. This part of rural American life that has sadly almost vanished in our day of interstate highways, self-serve stations and hybrid automobiles. While I was growing up one of the main highlights of my summers was visiting my grandparents in a small Mississippi town located on Hwy. 61 about twenty-six miles north of Natchez. My grandfather owned a gas station and dry-goods store that we all just called "The Shop," that was a virtual wonderland of adventure and discovery for a city kid like myself. I can still remember the dusty garage with the black mechanics, Charlie,who had only one arm, and Bilbo, my Paw-paw's fishing buddy who had worked for my Grand-pa for centuries it seemed, changing tires and crawling under the hood of cars and trucks brought in for repair. There was a old water-cooled soda machine loaded with Coca-colas, Frosty root-beers, Mountain Dew and the ever present smell of cigar smoke, perspiration, gasoline and grease that filled the atmosphere. There was a old glass cigarette and candy counter that Paw-paw pretended not to notice as we helped our selves to Double-bubble, Winston cigarettes and Pay-Day candy bars. It seemed like every customer that came in would say "charge it," when it came time to pay for their gas and oil and very little cash ever changed hands. Paw-paw had a great big ledger in which he would record all the transactions by hand and I seriously doubt if he ever collected half of what was owed to him as he never turned anyone away that was in need a few gallons to get by. Every visit my cousins and I would borrow the old Western Auto .22 rifle that Paw-paw kept in the corner and buy as many bullets as we could for the price of .50 a box and head out into the country to shoot till our ammunition ran dry and we would then head back to the shop for a cold soda and tell the tall tales of our adventures. It was an amazing time in my life and those summers are forever etched upon my memory. It is also a way of life that has vanished and this painting of Teri's has caused me to stop, remember and share a little of my life's journey with all of you!
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