1972. US56. Western Kansas.
Bonnie checked the gauge. Red.
Copeland. Pop.310.
She slowed to thirty. The headlights flashed a pump beside the elevators. Bonnie pulled in and got out. She crossed the street and knocked at a house. A light blossomed, and a man opened the door.
“Sir, do you know who runs the pump?”
“Out of gas?”
“Yes. I’m driving to Wichita.”
“Be right there.”
He returned with keys and opened the co-op. He filled Bonnie’s tank and cleaned her windshield. She offered fifty.
He refused. “Drive safe.”
Bonnie started the engine and waved. “Thank you. Good night.”
The Meta-Story: This version is 99 words. To get it that short, I altered the true story. For a more accurate version of what happened that night in 1972, read below. I was the eight-year-old daughter. My mom’s nickname is Bennie. I made her Bonnie for clarity. We were accompanied by my little sister, but it cluttered my story unnecessarily, and I doubt she remembers that night Mom was scared we’d run out of gas on the highway. In those days, there were no mobile phones, no 24/7 Quik Trips in Copeland. You relied on your neighbors and the kindness of strangers. Like Mom did one summer around midnight.
Friday Fictioneers: 100-word stories
photo prompt: Roger Bultot
Bonus Version: 211 words
1972. US56. Western Kansas.
For the last fifty miles, the headlights revealed nothing but broken, yellow line. Bonnie checked the gas gauge. In the red. Her eight-year-old daughter, Mindy, read the first sign they’d seen for an hour.
“Copeland. Population three hundred and ten.”
Bonnie slowed from sixty to thirty through the darkened town.
“Are we home yet?”
“Five more hours.” The headlights flashed a gas pump beside the grain elevators. Bonnie pulled in and got out. She crossed the street and knocked at the nearest house. A light came on, and an old man opened the door.
“Sir, do you know who runs the pump?”
“Out of gas, are you?”
“Yes, and I have my little girl in the car with me. We’re from Wichita.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be right with you.”
He returned with a set of keys. Bonnie followed him back to the co-op, where he opened up and switched on the pump. He filled Bonnie’s tank, cleaned her windshield, and gave Mindy a jawbreaker from a jar inside on the counter.
Bonnie offered him a fifty on top of the gas. He refused.
“You two get home safe now,” he said.
Bonnie started the engine and waved. “Thanks, Cecil. Have a good night.”
May 17, 2017 at 9:55 am
I don’t know why, but when I first opened the story I was half-expecting a tale about Pansy. I must miss her.
This was a great story, and I enjoyed the explanation and the longer version. I once coasted into a small town on fumes to find their gas station had closed the month before, and the nearest town was still half an hour away. Luckily, I met someone in the diner there who had a few five gallon gas cans on hand and he gave me enough fuel to get to the next town.
I read the second version one more time, and that Cecil character certainly sounds like a kind man. I hope you have a wonderful day, Kecia. I think you just lifted my spirits this morning with this story.
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May 17, 2017 at 10:02 am
Mandie, your story would be perfect for this prompt of the diner.
Pansy and everything else but flash for the blog and a couple of contests are on a back burner while I crunch and mash the structure of a novel. I have one more scene to write for what I hope is the last, large-scale change I want. I wrote three of the four yesterday. I was so proud of myself. Grind, grind, grind.
Thank you for reading. I enjoy your comments.
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May 17, 2017 at 10:09 am
Haha I’m pretty sure the whole town was in that diner, and everyone stopped and looked at me when I walked in.
That is so awesome, Kecia. It sounds like you accomplished so much yesterday. I can’t say the same for myself. If it wasn’t for meeting with my writing group yesterday, I’d probably have nothing to account for my time.
I’m hoping today will be productive though. 😀
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May 17, 2017 at 10:11 am
Write on, Mandie!
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May 17, 2017 at 2:27 pm
I do remember those cases when time did not matter… I think that you can still get help sometimes, though today there are credit cards… somehow it’s easier, but less opportunity to meet and be met with compassion.
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May 17, 2017 at 2:53 pm
I have faint memories of pulling up to a farm tank in the dead of night. Mom stole a tank of gas, she did things like that. The farmer shot at us from the porch, but mom stepped on the pedal and we threw dirt clouds behind us. I was about 7-8 at the time and thought it was cool, like the ‘Duke of Hazard’ and the ‘General Lee’. That same farmer was later one of my foster dads, and he never let me forget what mom had done.
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May 17, 2017 at 3:28 pm
That’s quite a tale! You should write it. 🙂
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May 17, 2017 at 2:54 pm
Memories are made of events like this, I enjoyed the second more detailed story also.
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May 17, 2017 at 3:34 pm
Thank you, Michael.
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May 17, 2017 at 5:12 pm
I was waiting for it to all go wrong. What a refreshing tale of kindness. Nice one.
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May 17, 2017 at 5:13 pm
No murders this time. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.
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May 17, 2017 at 8:42 pm
Very much a different time. It was more the norm then for people to help. People do still help but just less frequently.
Good writing. 🙂
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May 17, 2017 at 9:16 pm
True. Thank you for commenting.
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May 17, 2017 at 11:48 pm
Bless his heart. Salt of the earth.
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May 18, 2017 at 7:13 am
Many people like that still live in Kansas. Thank you for reading.
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May 18, 2017 at 1:29 am
This was such an uplifting bit of nostalgia. Of such stuff are memories built. Well done, Kecia. I have always enjoyed your writings.
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May 18, 2017 at 7:14 am
I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thank you.
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May 18, 2017 at 3:26 am
This is lovely. I really like both the longer and the shorter version. The only thing that I think is lost and I was confused about in the short version is that it reads like the man wouldn’t take any money, and I wasn’t sure about that. Still, really nice writing.
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May 18, 2017 at 7:14 am
Thank you for reading. Welcome to my blog, Claire.
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May 18, 2017 at 4:17 am
Lucky that petrol station was there and that the chap came out to help. I bet no-one would nowadays.
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May 18, 2017 at 7:17 am
There are still a lot of Kansans who would help. Cecils and Margarets and their kids and their grandkids.
Thank you for leaving a comment.
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May 18, 2017 at 5:57 am
I love the story, Kecia. I live in a small community and one of the storekeepers was much like Cecil. Today, it’s all so impersonalble, but at least you can buy gas with a credit card in the middle of the night without having to wake anyone up.
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May 18, 2017 at 7:22 am
I think we planned more for our outings and stayed home more. We didn’t hop up at 11pm on a milk run. We waited until the store opened the next morning. But my mom was a do-er and a go-er, and we were coming home from a horse show. (My older sister was a serious competitor.) My mom was also extremely self-sufficient, and that one time she was low on gas, she got us out of the trouble. Nothing slowed her down.
Thank you for commenting.
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May 18, 2017 at 8:10 am
people were much more self-sufficient in that era. You had to be. We lived in the country and my parents only went to town once a week. If you forgot something, you had to wait a whole week before the next run.
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May 18, 2017 at 8:31 am
There was so little money to spend it could all be done at one shot. And you didn’t phone long distance, either, unless it was after 6 pm. 🙂
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May 18, 2017 at 8:53 am
Yes, Christine. I remember Dad waiting until after 7 to call his parents in Ohio. We all had to gather in the living room for our turn to talk. He kept an eye on the time so we didn’t run up the phone bill. Imagine that!
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May 18, 2017 at 8:52 am
Exactly, Russ. Yet there was always something to eat. I remember my dad kept powdered milk in the case that we ran out before he could get to the store for more. He hated not having milk for his cereal in the morning!
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May 18, 2017 at 10:18 am
I saw the name and thought of Bonnie and Clyde. Your story was an anticlimax!
Yet so simple and neat! Loved it
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May 18, 2017 at 3:08 pm
I thought of them, too. I also thought of Holcomb, KS. This story could have very quickly gone bad. It was actually in the back of my mind as a contrast to what really happened. One expects something terrible to happen to a lone woman and her daughter on a lonely highway in the middle of the night. But, nope, there are decent people out there, too.
Thank you for reading, and welcome to my blog.
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May 18, 2017 at 9:16 pm
Its always good to read good stuff. Reality of life is horrifying that its pleasant to read nice things!
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May 19, 2017 at 6:03 am
Thank you. It was a change of pace. 🙂
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May 18, 2017 at 9:07 pm
I agree with Iain. A tale of kindness is often needed and you delivered it!
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May 19, 2017 at 6:03 am
Thanks, Alicia!
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May 19, 2017 at 7:08 am
Good story, Kecia. There’s so much trouble these days people are afraid to help their neighbors. It’s a shame. This has a lovely happy ending. Thanks for the longer story. 🙂 — Suzanne
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May 19, 2017 at 7:50 am
That’s true. Thank you.
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May 19, 2017 at 9:46 am
Such a nice story. There are still good ones out there, I am sure. We have just become too scared to even ask.
I agree with Claire, in the short story, it seems like he gave her the gas (which is fabulous!)
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May 19, 2017 at 10:24 am
Thanks for visiting, Dale.
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May 19, 2017 at 3:48 pm
Lovely story, I could picture the grain elevators and the dark pumps. I liked that the prompt took you to a simpler time and place.
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May 19, 2017 at 4:33 pm
Thank you. 🙂
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May 19, 2017 at 5:37 pm
I enjoy your writing style. It paints a vivid picture in the reader’s mind, even with only 99 words to work with.
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May 20, 2017 at 12:54 pm
Thank you. That’s a very nice compliment. Welcome to my blog.
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May 31, 2017 at 7:23 pm
Both of them were well-written, even the shorter one to fit the category.
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May 31, 2017 at 7:30 pm
Thank you. That’s kind of you to say. Welcome to the blog.
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June 2, 2017 at 5:53 pm
You are welcome!
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