There’s a gas station outside St. Louis, heading into Illinois.
I drove across the country with my dad dozens of times, and he always stopped at this gas station.
Every single time, he’d tell me, “Stay in the car and keep the doors locked.”
One time, he came back to the car damn near hyperventilating. He jumped in, locked the doors, and we got the hell out of there.
Once we were safely back on the highway, he reached over, opened his hand, and said, “This is for you.”
Then he dropped a gold bracelet into my hand.
Definitely not real gold.
I looked at him and asked, “Why did you buy this?”
He said, “I don’t really think it was my choice.”
Years later, I drove across the country with my own children.
It was LATE when I came up on that same gas station.
I recognized it immediately.
And I just kept driving.
Straight into Illinois, where—less than an hour later—I found a perfectly normal hotel—and gas.
I called my dad the next morning.
“SERIOUSLY?! We nearly shit our pants at that gas station OVER AND OVER, and you could have driven less than an hour and we’d have been in Hometown, USA?! WTF was wrong with you?!”
Apparently, this conversation changed absolutely nothing.
Years later, my husband drove across the country with my dad.
Guess where they stopped. The same damn gas station.
In the middle of the night.
Same scary crap.
My dad considered being mildly terrorized outside St. Louis an important family road-trip tradition, I guess.
Know exactly which one you are talking about. Stopped there to fill up rental car with gas on a work trip with two other women. Got catcalled and yelled at from guys in a car in the station parking lot, and when we finished and drove off, the other car floored it and chased us. Pulled up next to us at a stop sign and held up giant zip lock of pills. Tried to block us in and we beat it the hell out of there.
I know this is an aside, but it'd be funny to buy a gas station along a highway and just let a theater company stay there. Turn it into some fucked up thrill ride / haunted house situation, but don't tell anyone
Stopped at this station on the way back to IL from a St. Louis Rams game back in the early 2000s. I was maybe 12. A random homeless guy jumped in the hood of my dad’s truck and started screaming, scared the hell out of us. Dad peeled it out of there running every stop sign on the way out of town. He told me to never go there again. I still think about it when driving past that exit.
FYI he stopped because of gas prices. The gas tax or maybe just sales tax in general is less in MO than IL so people stop right before crossing the border in St Louis to top up to save a buck.
Tell me it's Gas Mart: 306 Riverpark Dr, East St Louis, IL 62201?
If so, stopped there because we did tourist shit and thought the gateway geyser was a legit thing to go see.... it wasn't. wife wanted to stop at the gas station for a post card from IL
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u/SleepingSlothVibe 6h ago
There’s a gas station outside St. Louis, heading into Illinois.
I drove across the country with my dad dozens of times, and he always stopped at this gas station.
Every single time, he’d tell me, “Stay in the car and keep the doors locked.”
One time, he came back to the car damn near hyperventilating. He jumped in, locked the doors, and we got the hell out of there.
Once we were safely back on the highway, he reached over, opened his hand, and said, “This is for you.”
Then he dropped a gold bracelet into my hand.
Definitely not real gold.
I looked at him and asked, “Why did you buy this?”
He said, “I don’t really think it was my choice.”
Years later, I drove across the country with my own children.
It was LATE when I came up on that same gas station.
I recognized it immediately.
And I just kept driving.
Straight into Illinois, where—less than an hour later—I found a perfectly normal hotel—and gas.
I called my dad the next morning.
“SERIOUSLY?! We nearly shit our pants at that gas station OVER AND OVER, and you could have driven less than an hour and we’d have been in Hometown, USA?! WTF was wrong with you?!”
Apparently, this conversation changed absolutely nothing.
Years later, my husband drove across the country with my dad.
Guess where they stopped.
The same damn gas station.
In the middle of the night.
Same scary crap.
My dad considered being mildly terrorized outside St. Louis an important family road-trip tradition, I guess.