Fill my tank, baby
If you were to drive through Flint today, locking the car doors against Michael Moore's version of the city, and turn your radio dial to 105.5, you would be greeted by the sounds of CK105: sweet, nonadventurous Top 40. But this wasn't always the case, my child, not the case at all. When first I made Flint my hometown, 105.5 was WWCK, no cute abbreviation, and it was the best way in town to plug into rock music, older classic rock and new stuff by the classic acts.
105 was our station of choice when Jim and I started dating. Our love bloomed at a Bob Seger concert, fer chrissakes, so it was a natural fit. Back in those days, we didn't have a huge household income -- I refer to that time period as our macaroni and cheese days -- and we'd often just drive around with the radio on for entertainment. WWCK used to sponsor gas giveaways, where they'd announce a gas station location, and the first x-number of cars to arrive would receive a free fillup. We got pretty good about guessing which part of town might be the location of the day, and were rewarded with gas, gratis, on quite a few occasions.
We were in the silver T-Bird we used to have when the announcement came one day, and we made our way over to a Shell station in Swartz Creek. There were about ten people ahead of us, but we were still obviously going to get the freebie petrol. As we sat in line, and in the course of our discussion, I leaned over and gave Jim a little kiss. C'mon, we'd just shacked up, the young love was still a constant, itching, burning, swelling presence in our loins, and my frisky little self didn't take much provocation to lay on the smooch machine.
I didn't think anything of it until I saw the older gentleman in the car ahead of us, who was obviously now watching us in his rear-view mirror. It still didn't seem like that big a deal until I casually observed this out loud. Jim got that "Oh yeah?" look on his face, and without any warning to me, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face into his lap. I was laughin' my ass off and managed to wriggle free and sit upright, where I saw the guy frantically twisting his mirror to try to get a better look. He saw us laughing, and he knew he'd been busted. Poor bastard stared straight out his windshield the rest of the time we were in line.
The moral of the story is: It's not polite to stare, even if you think some dude is gettin' his sausage gummed in the car behind you.
105 was our station of choice when Jim and I started dating. Our love bloomed at a Bob Seger concert, fer chrissakes, so it was a natural fit. Back in those days, we didn't have a huge household income -- I refer to that time period as our macaroni and cheese days -- and we'd often just drive around with the radio on for entertainment. WWCK used to sponsor gas giveaways, where they'd announce a gas station location, and the first x-number of cars to arrive would receive a free fillup. We got pretty good about guessing which part of town might be the location of the day, and were rewarded with gas, gratis, on quite a few occasions.
We were in the silver T-Bird we used to have when the announcement came one day, and we made our way over to a Shell station in Swartz Creek. There were about ten people ahead of us, but we were still obviously going to get the freebie petrol. As we sat in line, and in the course of our discussion, I leaned over and gave Jim a little kiss. C'mon, we'd just shacked up, the young love was still a constant, itching, burning, swelling presence in our loins, and my frisky little self didn't take much provocation to lay on the smooch machine.
I didn't think anything of it until I saw the older gentleman in the car ahead of us, who was obviously now watching us in his rear-view mirror. It still didn't seem like that big a deal until I casually observed this out loud. Jim got that "Oh yeah?" look on his face, and without any warning to me, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face into his lap. I was laughin' my ass off and managed to wriggle free and sit upright, where I saw the guy frantically twisting his mirror to try to get a better look. He saw us laughing, and he knew he'd been busted. Poor bastard stared straight out his windshield the rest of the time we were in line.
The moral of the story is: It's not polite to stare, even if you think some dude is gettin' his sausage gummed in the car behind you.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 10:58 PM
12 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
Getting gummed? Bucky, are you trying to tell me you can give a gummer cause it seems to me like you have teeth, or is that just your fancy come on line?
Hey baby wanna gummer?
Jess, it's my sure-fire, classy come-on. Who's gonna resist that kind of erotic ammunition?
Of course, I'm a total sham and do, in fact, have teeth.
workin' on our night moves...
I love Bob Seger; always have, always will.
You and Jim should drive around doing that in gas stations now, you know, just for the nostalgia of it. Jim, whaddya say, you up for some gummin' at the pumps?
Susie, I asked him, and Jim says he's more ready for some pumpin' at the gums.
Do you see what I live with? Understand why I'm like this now?
ooh, guess you're done here for the night;) Clean Gumby up, wouldja?
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH, Like A Rock!
Gummers! Gumby! there's just too much gumming going on around here.
I was driving south on I-5 to Portland on day and there was the sports car with two young lovers in it. As I was passing she was looking rather caught in the moment...and as I passed and looked back in the mirror, his hand guided the stunned young lady to her mark. Oh young love...
You and Jim really are meant for each other. I've always loved the story about how you guys ended up going on your first date together. Bob Seger and 7/11. But that is a whole 'nother story.
Now that I know your love at the pump story, well, it's all the better.
oh, thank you, squirl. tell us the first-date story, Bucky. You know, "road head," or any such road trip activities, go out the window, so to speak, when you have a kid. no more. at least until you're so old that there actually is "gumming" going on.
Down on Main Street...DOWN ON MAI-AIN STREEEEEET...DOWN ON MAI-AIN STREET... where the hell is my Bob Seger CD?
Itching, burning, swelling loins = veneral disease.
You know, I was wondering when someone was gonna bite with the "itching burning swelling" thing! I actually got that from a commercial for hemmerhoid cream. I'm nothin' if not romantic.
Greenie - how come I never see shit like that? I always miss the good stuff.
Now everybody, get out your Bob Seger CDs and take a spin on Main Street. I will, for the benefit of my more innocent and virginal readership, keep all stories of "road head" to myself.
And you may expect the first date story and more this week. Our anniversary is Friday, so I have many stories to dig out in its honor. And you - especially Susie - will just love some of the shit we've found cleaning upstairs this week. You'll see. ;)
"macaroni and cheese days"...ah, I remember those days. My prize find was bargain-brand macaroni-and-cheese on clearance at Wal-Mart for 8 cents a box.
I wish I could get in on a radio station gas-giveaway. I put fifty bucks' worth in my gas-guzzler yesterday, which gave it about 3/4 of a tank. Sigh.
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