Blue Highways: Old Service Stations a Relic of a Simpler Time

At one time, the backroads were the only roads. No interstates, just a network of two-lane highways weaving its way through America. And along these roads, peppering every small town and the roads that joined them, were service stations. 

When you pulled over to get gas, you could get the feel of the community with a short trip inside as the attendant filled your tank, checked your oil, and washed your windshield. 

Usually, a few old-timers were sitting on a bench outside talking about recent events or gossiping about the town drunk – assuming he was not amongst them. You could count on a “how ya doing” greeting as you made your way inside. 

Many travelers had to stop because nature called. They would get the bathroom key, which usually had an extra-long wooden handle to keep people from stealing it. In a less reputable area, the key may have been attached to a tire rim.  

Before there were self-serve fountain drinks, aisles of junk food, and debit cards, there were pickled eggs, boiled peanuts, glass-bottled drinks stacked in coolers, and sliced bologna.  

Every visit began with a bell when you opened the door and ended with another as the owner rang you up on an old National cash register. There was always a sign marking the exit – “Thank You, Come Again.” 

Today, you can still see a few old service stations, dilapidated and abandoned with weeds covering pumps, when traveling the backroads. Most of the traffic is gone, as most travelers are on the interstate.  

There are, however, still some places that remind you of those lost service stations. Many convenience stores – the well-shined successor to the old service stations, still traffic in unique food offerings. In Batesburg, South Carolina, I found one such small and very unassuming convenience store. It is the kind that, despite its small size, has aisles packed with all kinds of items for sale.  

The one reason I go to Kwik Karry is the hot dogs. They are made the old-fashioned way - with homemade chili, steamed buns, and old-school Carolina Pride wieners. I order two, with a bag of chips and a Diet Coke. The dining room is your vehicle.  

Those 61 grams of processed meat experts claim take 27 minutes off your life never tasted so good. 

Cracker Barrel has also made a fortune stocking their stores with retro candy and items you will not find anyway else. There is also a certain service station authenticity to their front porch rockers where people can sit and visit, just like the old days. 

Still, gone are the days of candy cigarettes (yes, that was a thing), jawbreakers, and root beer in a returnable glass bottle. These are relics of a time, and business model, long passed.  

Of course, there are still Blue Highways out there left to explore, and somewhere, I imagine, that perfect snapshot of the past. Should you find one, enjoy the stop. Say hello to the guys gossiping outside as you leave and do not forget the pickled eggs.