I swear to you as I sit and type that the following is a 100% for real, true story. It is also one of those classics that lives on in our family to be pulled out every so often, laughed over, and then stored away until “next time.”
It’s an age-thing, I suppose, and you probably have to be about the half-century mark to appreciate it. You also need to remember the old filling station where you could stop for help anytime. You could get your oil changed, your tires checked, your windshield cleaned, minor repairs done, and most importantly of all…you could ask for directions and the man at the filling station always knew the answer. Remember?
Well, it was just about the time that the man at the filling station was being replaced by the kid who didn’t really know a lot and worse than that, didn’t really care. We were slowly cycling from filling to convenience, and we were all struggling with the change.
Our cousin was driving down the road when she suddenly realized that she could smell smoke. Upon looking in the rearview, she could see smoke billowing out of the trunk of the car.
Luckily, she was able to wheel into the nearest filling/convenience (that in-between “thing” we had during the transition). Jumping out of the car, she ran into the store calling to the young attendant for help.
“Help! Quick, please! My turtle is on fire!” she screamed rather hysterically, so she said.
The young man looked up rather lazily, or so it seemed at the time, and said, “Lady, where is your turtle?”