Tell Gas Station Gary He Can Fill Her Up Anytime
He can come fill me up next: the not-so-secret tale of a drive-by crush.
There’s a new gas station attendant at my local Chevron. His name is Gary*, which is pretty much all I know about him. He’s got dreamy hazel eyes and always breaks into a sexy smile when he’s filling my tank. I can’t tell if he’s flirting or unwittingly looks at everyone that way. I know he works on weekday mornings, so I time my fill-ups accordingly.
I have a knack for striking up interesting conversations with random or regular people in my life. He’s one of them. Today, my goal was to find out more about Gary.
I volunteered that I hike daily, and he mentioned getting back on his mountain bike. He likes to trail ride. When I asked if he rides where I go, he said that he likes to hit the upper trail where he’s not supposed to, and that people don’t like that very much. Oh, Gary, you rule breaker, you.
As I gaze at his suspiciously hunting-inspired raincoat (it’s camouflaged and we live in Oregon), I force myself to not pay attention to the flags he’s flying. He’s got all three right now — red, yellow, and green. But I only focus on those green eyes and the flag to match. And green means go, you know.
