Wayback Machine

The abandoned gas station was overgrown with weeds. Paint was peeling, and the cupola seemed a bit lopsided perched on the roof. Several of it’s vents were missing. I guessed a few birds had taken up residence inside. I spotted the old fuel station stopped at the traffic light. The modern Food Mart that had vanquished it stood on the opposite corner.

Was there a photograph to be made here?

I rode the bike into the lot, past the fuel island. It’s pumps had long since been removed, capped stumps poking up from the concrete.

Kicking out the stand, I dismounted and camera in hand, approached the building. The service bay windows were clouded with age and grime, but I could peer in the old office door. I looked in.

Inside it was 1974. The counter was dusty and grease stained from where the mechanic had sat. The register keys bore his oily fingerprints. The paper invoices were stacked on the desk, a calendar on the wall for Shell. Stacks of empty cardboard oil cans sat on the floor, a steel nozzle with a sharp blade for piercing the metal covers beside them.

I imagined walking up to the cigarette machine to grab a pack of smokes for pop.

On top of the machine were a couple of phone books. These white books were yellow now, with dirty bent corners from years of grubby thumbs. The pay phone was mounted on the wall next to the service area, it’s long metal cord to the receiver still held a faint silver shine. Fishing in my pocket, I palmed a couple of quarters, a little more than the going rate for a pack of butts in ’74.

I dropped them into the slot and pulled the gold knurled lever for a pack of Camels. How could you go wrong? In 1950, nine out of ten doctors smoked Camels. By 1974 when Ritchie Cunningham was living in some Happy Days, people who smoked had cut back to a little more than 2800 cigarettes a year.

The soft pack thudded in the tray below. Grabbing a book of matched from the counter, I turned and walked out the door.

Outside it was 2022. I put the camera back in the saddlebag, and cranked the engine. With a lazy turn I pulled back into reality.