Half Enough

Is Plenty Enough!

(c) copyright 1999 by Lin Stone

Back when I was a handsome young man I had a service station on a major highway. There was a BIG sign up and every day tourists would whiz into the station to fill up with gas.

The year was 19 and 64; year of the Mustang.
One day a hot pink Mustang with California plates came gliding into the station with two young girls up front. They were prettier than any Mustang filly ever born. Jim had the longest legs and he got to them first. We were chagrined of course, but backed up to the office door according to our station protocol to watch him try his magic.

Jim wasted no time getting the gas going on automatic and then hurried forward to prop his long, lanky elbows on their window sill and begin talking. "What are you two girls doing so far from home?"

We drooled at their response. "We came over to liven up the state."

"All yawl gotta do is drive in and you liven up the whole state," Jim assured them. And liven it up they did, flashing bright smiles our way, and especially at Jim. He knew he had something special and before long he was holding hands with the driver and there wasn’t no protest at all.

I was gritting my teeth with envy when Bob nudged me. Turning his way I saw him nod his head towards the back of the Mustang. Gas was going everywhere! The pump had not shut off.

"Jim!" I called. When he glanced my way I nodded my head towards the back of the car. He grinned and went back to his business – letting those girls know how pretty they were just like there wasn’t a mirror nowhere in the state of Oklahoma.

"Jim!" I called more urgently than ever. He thrust one hand behind him and shushed me, being engaged in more important entertainment than I could provide him with.

So the others tried, with less success than I’d achieved. Well, he did turn around and flash us a grin. But other than that, he was going to town out there.

Suddenly he noticed the gas flowing around his shoes. His head jerked up with a start, and he hurried back to the pump, shutting it off. He grabbed the water hose and turned it on full force then used his cap to fan the concrete a little bit. Finally he looked at the gas pump and groaned..

With a lump in his throat so big we could see it from the office, Jim slunk back to their window.

Bravely, he told them they owed him $10.00 for gas.

"TEN DOLLARS?" You coulda heard their scream in Texas if Lyndon B hadn’t been running for re-election at the moment.. "How much does gas cost here?"

"Well," said Jim. "Gas is fifty cents a gallon and I put 20 gallons in the tank.

Suddenly, Mr. Nice Guy was all gone. Those two pretty things in the front seat turned all colors of nasty. "How did you get that much gas in our LITTLE tank?"

Jim gave it his best shot. He grinned. "Well, I set down and packed it in with both feet!"

The driver glanced down at his feet. Naturally they were still wet. Burning anger turned her face hotter than a pink Mustang, but she peeled off a ten and handed it to Jim.

"Watch me SPIN MY WHEELS outta here," she told him.  That Mustang squalled out of there quicker than a cat dancing down a hot tin roof and Jim came back into the office with his money and a long face. "Why didn’t yawl say something?"

We assured him we had and less than five minutes later we had almost forgotten the event. Only, about that time Charlie Post came into the station with his red lights still flashing on the patrol car. "I got two purty girls down at the city desk claims this here service station charged them for 20 gallons of gas and their little Mustang gas tank wouldn’t even half empty! Yawl wouldn’t do that, wouldya?"

All of us looked uncomfortable. Then I remembered how pretty those two girls were and stepped forward to address Charlie. "Well I’ll give them back half their money if I just get to go back with you and explain what happened."

Before Charlie could say a word Jim shoved me aside, waving a $20 bill. "I’ll double their money back Charlie if you just get them two out of town before my wife hears about this!"

And right then I learned that half enough is plenty enough when you’re sneaking around doing the wrong thing.

In one way or another, I have reminded Jim of that lesson every day for 35 years now,  just so I will never forget it.

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