Have you ever been to a gas station that wasn’t sketchy? Just last week I stopped at a “Miller Mart” about half a mile from my job, on a busy street in a bustling city. I noticed that the screen at the pump said “$9.00 prepaid.” The machine refused to take my debit card. I really didn’t want to go inside this gas station. I’d been inside before, just this time I really didn’t want to talk to the cashier among a line of people eager to exchange their hard-earned money for carcinogenic substances and lottery tickets. I waited a minute and eventually the pump took my card info.

Shortly after I started pumping gas, a white car, newer model, pulled up behind my truck and did a “honk-honk.” Almost before the car stopped, a woman (probably no more than 25 years old – about 10 years my junior) hopped out of the passenger side and said very sternly, “Uhh, ma’am, this pump had $9.00 of pre-paid gas on it.” Her tone and the look on her face was one of “I’ll kill you if you took our gas money.” Before she could continue, I said firmly with a nonplussed face, “I didn’t use that money, this is a separate transaction.” She proceeded to go inside the Miller Mart. Her friend, also younger looking than me, the driver of the white car, got out shortly thereafter and also walked inside. All the while, the car was lined up after me at the pump. The first woman came out after a few minutes. I asked her, “You good?” She simply nodded without slowing down. A minute later was the same thing with her friend. They padded back to the car, white slippers and tank tops and sweatpants, cell phones in hands. As I drove off, they pulled up to the pump.

The scene was tense. But thanks to my job and a small amount of martial arts training, I’ve learned to stay calm in these situations. I really got the impression that the first girl would have attacked me over $9.00. I’m glad I didn’t answer her harshly. That may have stirred the pot. And I am glad I didn’t use the prepaid nine bucks. It wasn’t mine to begin with. I was able to fill up my tank without having to go inside and without getting shot or otherwise assaulted. I later thought about those two girls driving the white car. Why were they so bent out of shape over $9.00? I wouldn’t be surprised if they owe at least $500 a month on that car. Plus, cell phone bills and who knows what else. On a tight budget. I’m glad they were able to get their nine bucks of gas.

Another gas station I drove past one afternoon was also the gas station where a young man was shot and killed a short time later the same day. Who knows, it may have been over $9.00. I haven’t stopped there for gas in a long time.

The local Wawa is no less sketchy. In the early mornings it’s congested with tree cutting crews, contractors, and night shifters. I pulled up there early one morning, before 7 am. In no time I heard, “Heeyy ma’am, can you spare some change?” I told her I couldn’t. Occasionally there’s the solicitor standing right outside the Wawa door asking for spare change. Ironically there’s a brown paper bag shaped like a glass bottle right beside him.

At a different Wawa I heard, “Hey girl, you’re just so pretty. You are so beautiful.” I was waiting for the punch line from this middle-aged woman. “Can I get some money?” I told her I couldn’t help her.

Then there was that time at the Exxon last year. I stood at my truck pumping gas when I heard a “dunk.” An apologetic Hispanic man hopped out of his truck and said, “Ohh, I’m sorry, it’s a small ding.” He had essentially rear-ended my truck, albeit at low speed. Thankfully no damage was done and no one was hurt. I didn’t even say a word the whole time he stood apologizing. I was simply speechless.

Lastly, one time I stopped with my parents and husband at a rural gas station in South Carolina. This one took the prize. Maybe it was the setting: dirt roads, hazy sky, tractor trailers from various angles. The whole vibe was odd. It was eerie. We got in and out.

I would bike everywhere if I could but biking is equally shady. Cyclist fatalities are on the rise in my state, according to the DOT. Additionally, I’d have to bike past or even through a few gas station parking lots in route to work. My tips on going to gas stations, if you must: go during the day; keep an eye out; be swift; avoid going inside; if you must speak, be kind but assertive. Stand tall. Lastly, carry mace. ~