For a period of time when we were young and daring, my best friend, Jan, and I wore sexy shorts, tank tops and smiles on roller skates as we glided to the pumps to gas up cars. We had fans! And only because we were doing something so random and edgy in the deep burbs of Beaverton, Oregon.
I had a boyfriend who was super cute and his not so cute buddy, named Buddy, worked at this gas station. It was on a funky and quite busy corner set between a Payless, a bowling alley, and there was a Mobil gas station across the street. Our summer job was purposed to compete with that sign across the boulevard with the red flying horse. We were courteous, efficient, and always made sure our outfits coordinated. If Facebook was around in the 80s, we would have updated our profile pics hourly.
When the fall came and the skates came off, we walked away from this job feeling confident that we helped a small business with an unknown name win the war at the pumps. We learned that skating the path less or more oddly traveled served us well and it truly has made us fearless of life.