The Last Texaco

     The Last Texaco

Suzanne Marsh

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know?”

“You said you could read a map!”

“I can,”

“Then how did we end up here going to Langtry, Texas.”

“According to good old Rand McNally we are on the right road.”

“Can’t be, we are supposed to be heading to El Paso. Let me see the map.”

“We are almost out of hours, we need to find a truck stop now.”

“No go, not until we get to Pecos.”

“Look, we can’t keep driving I am almost at the fourteen hour.”

“Check the truck stop book there has to be something along this road.”

The semi’s high beams centered upon a small Texaco gas station and cafe. Mac and Frank had absolutely no idea where they were. The small Texaco was open, they pulled off the side of the desert road. They then walked into the gas station expecting to find at least a Cstore, instead they found the elderly owner of the gas station:

“What can I do fer you fellers?”

“Where are we?” They glanced around the gas station, noting a few items on the wall, such as

tire irons, oil cans. Mac and Frank felt as if they had just entered the twilight zone and any time now Rod Serling would appear.

“This here is the last Texaco, full service gasoline station. Where’s your car fellers?”

Mac stood silently for several moments before responding:

“Sir, we have a semi truck and trailer, we are out of hours and fuel, can we stay on

your land until daylight?”

The elderly man, sort of smiled, it had been sometime since he had seen another person much less two:

“Sure, fellers back her in next to the building. I ain’t got no diesel.”

“Do you know where the closest truck stop with fuel is?”

“Sure, on I20 I reckon about forty miles or so. Say, the cafe is still open might want to fill up

those tanks.”

Mac and Frank thought that was a phenomenal idea, they were both hungry. The walked over to Fanny’s Cafe, ordered dinner, then spoke about where to get diesel fuel. It was not going to be easy since the truck was so low on fuel.

“There is one whole truck stop in Langtry, it is open until five o’clock, in the evening.”

“That is not going to help us now! The old man said we could stay until morning.”

“Well, at least that way we would have some daylight to look for that truck stop,

Frank, if you weren’t my brother, I would really wonder how you make it in

trucking industry. Let’s go back to the last full-service station and have a good look

around.”

They strode back toward the gas station. The light was still on, so they walked in. The old man stood

quietly behind the counter. Frank began to look around as did Mac. They noticed old Mobil oil cans, wrenches, a pop machine that was old enough to vote, a display of gum and assorted candies. Mac noticed Blackjack gum, something he had not seen since he was a young boy. The pack looked almost as old as Mac, but he purchased it anyway. Frank in the interim, walked out into the garage area. There he noticed a huge blue tarp; he walked over to and lifted the tarp to find a 1959 Chevy Corvette. Frank stood there as if in a trance as he eyed the beautiful candy apple red Corvette. He wanted to go back in and ask the old man how much he wanted for the Corvette.

Once again inside the gas station, Mac wondered around asking the old man a variety of questions:

“Sir, how long have you been here?”

“Oh, I bought this place in 1968, My son and me was going to have our own gas station.

My son died in Vietnam, my wife died a year later, so all that was left was this old

gas station, I just ain’t got the heart to close her down.”

Mac stared blankly for several moments before he finally answered.

“Sir, I am sorry for your loss. Is there any way we can repay your kindness for allow

us to park our rig here?”

The old man sort of snickered:

“No son, but it sure is nice just to have someone to talk to. I don’t get many customers,

the gas station is way off the beaten path as my wife would say.”

Mac, excused himself, he wondered where Frank was. His brother had a habit of wondering off at very inconvenient times. This was a rather awkward moment between him and the old man. He found Frank holding the tarp and gazing wonderingly at the beautiful Corvette:

“Frank, come on, we need to get some sleep. Mac, just look at her, she is a beauty.”

“That she is but she belongs to that old man and somehow, I think it might have been

his son’s. His son died in Vietnam in 1968. It is only him here now. I asked him if

there was anything we could do for him; he said our company was enough. I guess

with all the self-serve gas stations, and this one being the last one it gets lonely.”

The brothers thought for several minutes:

“Hey Mac, I got an idea how we can help the old man.”

“Frank, this better be good, we have got to get some sleep!”

“I know, I know but I keep thinkin of something pop used to say, you know about

being lonely, with no one to care for. Well, maybe we could get the old man a puppy.

I saw some pups on the way here. We could take the tractor and go get one.”

“Frank, you sometimes come up with some weird ideas but this one is a real good one.”

Mac and Frank headed for the tractor, started her up and headed about a mile down the road. The farmer had two puppies left. Frank picked the one with black spots around both eyes. They went back to find the Texaco, to find the old man asleep in a chair. The puppy clamored to get down, he ran over to the old man, jumped on him:

“Hey, what’s this?” The old man asked.

“Sir, this puppy is for you, we figured it must be lonely for you here by yourself, so we

brought Ted back here with us.”

The puppy liked the old man’s face, climbed into his lap and fell asleep. Mac and Frank, went back out to the tractor, went to sleep. The next morning, they said goodbye to the old man and last full-service Texaco gas station.