Column: Another spooky birthday

Dear readers,

Thank you to all loyal readers who remembered my Halloween birthday this year.

One of my grandchildren asked me what it was like living in the past. I explained that when I was there, it was the present. Now I feel like I am living in the future. And it isn’t what I had expected.

When I was a student at Shelbyville High School over 50 years ago, everyone was busy forecasting the future. “Future Shock” was a best-selling book by Alvin Toffler. The premise was that the future was arriving faster and faster.

It took humans over 5,000 years from learning to ride horses until Henry Ford started making Model T’s. It took only about 50 years from the invention of the Model T to Neil Armstrong traveling to the moon by spaceship. Futurists assumed the trend would continue.

So, with a bit of extrapolating, it was clear that in the next 50 years we would all be vacationing on Mars. Everyone would have a personal flying machine, and we would all live like the Jetsons.

The futurists were wrong. Moon trips did not become routine. In fact, they soon stopped. We didn’t get personal flying machines. Cars have changed some in the last 50 years, but not much. Ford is still selling Mustangs. The cars didn’t change but the gas stations did.

In the 1960s, when a customer pulled up to the pump, a bell rang in the station. An employee came out and pumped the gas. The customer was not allowed to pump the gas. The employee also washed the windshield and checked the oil. 

If you were hungry, your choices at most gas stations were very limited.  A 6 oz. bottle of Coca-Cola from a vending machine was it for beverages. If you were hungry, there was the penny peanut machine -- one penny, a twist of the crank, and out slid a handful of Spanish peanuts. These weren't just any peanuts, mind you. These were the kind that old-timers loved to put in their bottle of Coke, turning the fizzy drink into a crunchy, salty-sweet delight.

Why did they do it? Because why not! This was an era where simple pleasures didn't require elaborate explanations.

Terry Ogden and I were paperboys during the 1960s. Our favorite gas station for snacks was Totten’s Pure. It was located at the corner of Pike and E. Broadway where Speedway is now. Totten’s had several vending machines. A hungry paperboy had a smorgasbord of candy bars and soft drinks to choose from.

I remember being amazed when Stuckey’s opened at the interstate exit at State Road 244. Stuckey's was the mecca of pecan logs and roadside cafes. It was a simpler time when a sugary, nutty log could bring a smile to a weary traveler’s face.  

My all-time favorite gas station/restaurant combination was a place called Sherrill’s located at the intersection of U.S. 31 and State Road 28 near Tipton, Indiana. Their sign said, “Eat Here and Get Gas.” It was locally owned and one of a kind. Unfortunately, it was a victim of adding a roundabout at that intersection a few years ago.

Gas station food has come a long way from the day of 6 oz. cokes and Spanish peanuts.  I wonder if we should heed Thoreau's advice to "simplify, simplify.” Perhaps it's time to take a step back, buy a 6 oz. coke and toss in a handful of peanuts. Sometimes, the simplest pleasures are the most satisfying.

See you all next week, same Schwinn time, same Schwinn channel.

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