“Well I was born in a small town…” John Mellencamp Small Town

One of my goals with this blog was to document the characters and stories from my childhood growing up in rural northwest Indiana. I have been listening closely to my Dad whenever he relates them to me and have mentally written them over and over but just have not digitized them yet. I hope to start doing that now by “setting the scene” for you…

My Dad used to work at a small gas station that was started by my Dad’s Dad and one of Dad’s uncles. Since my grandfather died before I was ever around…my Dad took the business over with his uncle…who we called Uncle Clarence, or as he was more widely known, Uncle Skeet. More about him in a future post.

The “garage” as we called it, consisted of one side with some groceries, “pop” machine, coolers with ice cream and other frozen goods, a candy cabinet, and other assorted things like a few fishing lures. They even made milk shakes and my parents still have the metal cups and milk shake maker at home. The other side of the garage had one bay with a lift for doing car repairs and oil changes. At the back of the bay was a tool bench with vises and grinders and tools of all sort scattered about. In other words, a kids dream to wreak havoc. It was always fun to hang out at the garage with Dad.

Uncle Skeet did many a small engine repair, fixing the local’s lawn mowers. The usual problem was burned out points, gummed up carburetors, and dirty spark plugs. I can still hear Skeet revving up the mowers as loud as they could after repairing them. I wonder how many lawnmower blades he sharpened in his life as well. It was cool to see the sparks flying as he set the blade to the grinder.

Tire repairs were also another service that was performed often. The local farmers kept them busy with truck and wagon tires. Dad repaired a helluva lot of tires. You can bet on that. It was not an easy task either.

The garage was located in the small community of Pulaski, Indiana and sat on a hill near the Tippecanoe River, which flowed behind the garage. Over time, the garage became to known as the “Eighth Wonder of the World” to us because as you walked towards the back, you felt the slope of the foundation going downhill, like it was going to go over the side of the hill at any moment. It never did.

This was not one of those self serve stations either. Dad or Skeet would go pump the gas, check oil, clean windshields…check tires pressure if asked. Sounding like a scene with Goober in the “Andy Griffin Show”?

One of the great things about the garage only being a couple miles from home was Dad would get to come home for lunch nearly every day. It was great to see him pull into the driveway.

The garage would serve as a central point for many of the characters that I recall from youth. Next time I get back home, I will try to find some pics…and add them to this entry.

On the google map below…the garage is located near the center of the image. The Tippecanoe River is at the top of the image…

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The “Eighth Wonder of the World” still stands, albeit, a mere shell of itself from days long past.

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~ by Tom Reutebuch on 07/13/2010.