Monday, January 24, 2011

Airplane Filling Station

Ready for Take Off
I’ve written about this before. But now I have my own pictures to show you. Last Saturday we were on Clinton Highway north of Knoxville at Powell, Tennessee and I stopped to get a close up view of the airplane service station.

I remember it well from the time I was a small boy. Every time we were on that highway, I was jumping up and down in the back seat just waiting for the opportunity to see the airplane gas station. In those days it was a full service gas station. You would pull under the wing and the attendant would fill up your gas tank, check your oil and clean your windows.

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Tennessee Granddaddy Says:
I remember that old airplane filling station from the days of my youth. It’s fun to find things that still exist 50-60 years later in our life. So many things are gone or have just changed so much you don’t recognize them.

Grandmother and Granddad’s home is now torn down. But I still remember the days we had family meals on Sundays, and setting in the yard or on the porch just watching the cars go by.
Babe Maloy’s drive in restaurant is also gone.
I remember those cheeseburgers and cherry cokes, and setting there with Gerald, my best friend, and dreaming about our futures.
This may be gone or physically destroyed, but in our minds they still exist. I’m grateful for that.

Quote of the Day
Winter either bites with its teeth
or lashes with its tail. 

Joke of the Day

A cowboy, who just moved to Wyoming from Texas, walks into a bar and orders  three mugs of Bud. He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time."

The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Arizona and the other is in Colorado . When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I'm drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself."

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn. One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss." The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains, "It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking."

"Hasn't affected my brothers though."

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