Summer 1979. It was an odd day in the suburbs of Los Angeles. I don't mean odd as in strange, but odd as in odd-even. Getting up at five in the morning, I reasoned there would be plenty of time to buy gas for my empty ’67 Mustang, go back home and change clothes, and get to the office near LAX by 8:00am. This was my day, I was sure: my license plate number was UUU051. Driving around the corner from my parent’s house to go to the gas station, I was floored to see a line of cars snaking thru the neighborhood. The car at the end of the line had a sign on it. It read "LAST CAR FOR GAS". Now what to do… Ah, there’s a Shell station about a half mile away at the other end of the neighborhood. Driving over there, I secured my place in line, about 10 cars from the station entrance. All that was left to do was wait for the station to open, which was usually at 6:00am. However, today was different. It was after 7:00am and the station still wasn’t open. Cars in front of me began leaving, which put me right at the station entrance. A few more minutes past, and the station owner finally arrived. He looked to be in his late 40’s, short and slightly overweight. He was not happy. He began yelling in his indeterminate foreign accent “GET OUT, NO GAS UNTIL LATER”. Many people left, but by this time my car was at the pump and I and group of other motorists, most of us in our 20’s, decided that we spent two hours in line, and we weren’t leaving without gas. If he had no gas, he should have posted a sign the night before. Being that it was a neighborhood station, many of us lived within walking distance, so we went to our respective homes and brought back blankets, coolers, beer, and food. We decided to make the best of it and had a makeshift picnic at the station. Roller skating was popular in the late ‘70s, so many brought roller skates and used them to skate around the station or make quick runs to the Alpha Beta market down the street. I also brought my camera. The station owner was pissed off and called the police, and thru negotiations agreed to let us stay as long as we didn’t disrupt his business. The gasoline tanker should arrive in the noon hour. I called my boss and told him what was going on and he told me to stick with it. As the day wore on the station owner softened to our presence and actually had lunch with us. He wasn’t such a bad guy after all. In fact, I think he was glad we were there since we attracted attention to his station. Finally, at about 4:00pm the fuel tanker arrived to cheers from the group, and we were all able to fill up our tanks. I made some nice friends that day and to top it off, my boss didn’t make me use a vacation day!
Gas line
My green '67 Mustang at the pump
I'm the guy in the yellow shirt
Uh oh...
Party time! Me next to the curly-haired blond
Tanker here and a full tank of gas!
I was lucky. I was hired as a mailman in summer of '73. I was always able to bring my car to the station where we got our postal vehicles gassed. Lenny would use my car to block pumps and gas me up. I never waited in one of those lines. Talk about luck !!
And, since the station was about a half mile from the p.o., I would don my skates too..lol
Great stories gents.
John Kuvakas
Warrenton, VA
@pete-rovero, Love, love, love your story. And the photos bring it to life. THANKS for sharing!
George Schire
Oakdale, Minnesota
Thx George. I should have noted that during the ‘79 energy crisis Los Angeles County service stations were required to post their prices and whether or not they were selling gas. This owner did neither. He put out his sign after we were already there. That’s the reason everyone felt justified in staying and one reason why the police didn’t kick us out. I was such a rebel back then!
WOW! I sort of remember these gas shortages going on, but I grew up in Northern Michigan and I really don't recall that ever happened there.
I don't remember ever waiting to get gas, or even not being able to get it.
John Merritt
South Lyon, Michigan - USA
WOW! I sort of remember these gas shortages going on, but I grew up in Northern Michigan and I really don't recall that ever happened there.
I don't remember ever waiting to get gas, or even not being able to get it.
Here in Minnesota the gas lines were real. At stations all over the Twin Cities, cars would be lined up for blocks and blocs on the street, all waiting to get even a little gas. There would be fights outside of cars as people would try and edge their way in the line. We even had people that hit others peoples cars to stop them from getting in line. It would mess with the regular traffic flow too. Then when some would finally get to the pump, there would be pushing and shoving. Our local news stations showed many photos of these things happening.
George Schire
Oakdale, Minnesota
WOW! I sort of remember these gas shortages going on, but I grew up in Northern Michigan and I really don't recall that ever happened there.
I don't remember ever waiting to get gas, or even not being able to get it.
Here in Minnesota the gas lines were real. At stations all over the Twin Cities, cars would be lined up for blocks and blocs on the street, all waiting to get even a little gas. There would be fights outside of cars as people would try and edge their way in the line. We even had people that hit others peoples cars to stop them from getting in line. It would mess with the regular traffic flow too. Then when some would finally get to the pump, there would be pushing and shoving. Our local news stations showed many photos of these things happening.
Adversity brings out the best and worst in people at times doesn't it? Embarrassing on occasion..........many examples these days unfortunately.
And I should add that during those gas crisis years, I was driving 4-bangers..lol.
First was a '68 Opel Kadette then a '76 VW Scirocco and finally, my first brand new car, a '78 Scirocco that I purchased right off the showroom floor. It was a special Wolfsburg Edition. I loved that VW. Kept it till Summer of '85. My friends laughed at me for spending almost $7K on a VW but it lasted me 8 years.
A kid on my mail route bought it and liked it too.
June of 1979 I moved to Manhattan at the age of 24, beginning what became a 35 year adventure. No worries about gas...no car!
Retired in Dunedin, Florida.