Grape Nehi

Like the character Radar O’Reilly on the long-running sitcom MASH, I love grape Nehi soda.

Growing up, I hung around a Texaco gas station on the south side of U.S. Highway 30. Highway 30, also known as the Lincoln Highway, is a main road traveling from the east coast to the west coast. Prior to the building of the interstate highway system, it was as busy a highway as you’ve ever seen. It was difficult to cross the road because of the hundreds of semi rigs, tourists in the summer, and regular traffic on a daily basis that had very few alternatives going from east to west or west to east across the continent. However, a Vail kid could always find a way to cross the two-lane road with ease, and did so, often. Amazingly, no one was ever hit by a vehicle.

The Texaco station was a busy place. Cars were pulling in to get gas so frequently the owner had very little time to wait on the gasoline pumps and provide auto repair in the back. I would sit in the station and watch Bob Loew or Earl Costello, or whomever else owned the place, wait on gas customers until I knew I could pump gas, check oil, air in the tires, and wash the windshield. As soon as I had it figured out, I would wait for the bell to go off – ding, ding! “I can get it,” I would yell. And I would run outside to take care of the customer. After a while, I was taken for granted. That didn’t bother me because I would be rewarded with a grape or orange Nehi soda from the soda machine. It cost a dime. There was a rack on the side where the empty bottles would be stacked.

The soda dispenser was the beginning of vending machines, as I know it. The bottles hung from the bottle neck. After inserting the dime, you could move the bottle to a mechanism that allowed you to lift the entire bottle from the machine. I swear that mechanism was designed to prevent children from using it. One slip of the hand and you would have to have another dime ready to use. But since I helped out whatever owner, I knew where the key was to open the back side of the dispenser and help myself. I never stole or told anyone where the key was. I never opened the back side if anyone was within an earshot of the cooler.

There were three other stations in town that sold gas. There was a difference between a service station and a gas station. Abbot’s Standard was just that – a place to purchase gas. The office was too small for anyone but Roy Abbot to occupy, and I don’t think he had a pop machine, candy, or any other sundries. Weiss’ DX Station on the other end of town had an office a little smaller than Roy’s, but all of the Weiss brothers managed to fit in it at one time. That was until Pete built a new station with two bays. He used one bay to park his brand-new baby-blue 1964 Ford Mustang. He rarely drove it. The final station was Hubie Jackson’s. I think the gas brand was Mobil. However, I never saw anyone buy gas there. Hubie fixed small engines, such as lawnmowers, but he did have gas pumps.

I learned how to change oil, rotate tires and repair tires, change wiper blades, and all sorts of minor tasks that gas station attendants/owners performed on a daily basis. I moved up into the world when Joe Fineran asked if I wanted to work for him. Joe owned an automobile repair shop. He did more than fix flats, pump gas, and change oil and filters; Joe tore engines down and rebuilt them, repaired them, and cursed at them. That job didn’t last long. All I did was wash parts in gasoline and he paid me fifty-cents a day. I began mowing yards after that and made some very good money for a young boy. And I was good at it.

This week I did a search to find out if I could purchase Grape Nehi nearby. I was surprised to find out that I could, but at the price quoted I chose not to make the investment. Of course, I don’t drink soda pop, so I had no idea that the cost of all carbonated sugary drinks has exploded over the years.

And I thought coffee was expensive. Hah!

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