The other day on my way to work, I had to stop at the gas station by my house to fill my car up. (Off-topic, but $40 to fill up the 12-gallon tank of a sub-compact? Really?)
Now, this gas station is at a strange juxtaposition of subdivision, bus stop, Mexican grocery mart, and downtown. You get a very broad range of customers patronizing the gas station and attached convenience store.
I normally stop there early in the morning, and I like watching the different types of people that mill around there. There's a homeless guy who rides a bike around my neighborhood, and he often stops there to pick up a Fuze brand sports drink that he carries around in a basket on the front of his bicycle.
Early in the morning, the delivery guys are normally there, too, dropping off the shipments of soft drinks and beers. Construction workers and contractors gas up their big, heavy-duty pickups and grab some of the cheap kwik-e-mart coffee. I see other office workers, women pumping gas in high heels and pant suits.
This morning, there was a big American sedan at the pump next to me. It was full of older ladies, dressed like they were on their way to a fancy Easter service (fabulous hats with silk flowers and all). I wondered if maybe they were going to a convention, since it was 7:00 am on a weekday morning.
I set the nozzle to automatic fill, and sat back down in my car to start on my day's Bible reading. (I like to do my reading before work in the morning.) A few moments later, I heard a tap on my window.
