Musing of one wondering what really happened to the young Roman who tried to arrange a tryst with Caesar's wife and was caught red-handed...

The other day, as old folks often do, I got into a reminiscent mode.  When I was a kid going to school, I had a part-time job at a service station.  When a customer pulled up to the gas pumps, two of us would go out to service the car (there were 4 of us altogether).  While one was putting gasoline in the tank, the other would lift the hood (which in those days was hinged at the top) and check the oil, water and battery.  Once he had done that, he would proceed to check the tires, while the one who had been filling the tank was washing all the windows.  Anything to keep the customer or perhaps secure a repeat customer.  These operations of course took a few minutes.  I began to wonder what it would look like if the same procedure were being followed today.  The line of cars waiting to get to the gas pumps would probably be 9 miles long. 

I also had a part-time job in another service station.  One of its customers was the playwright Zoe Akin who had a European limousine (I think it was a Hispano Suiza) and a very finicky chauffeur.  If one drop of gasoline was spilled on the finish of the car, he went high order.  He also stood over us as we checked the oil, water, and tires to make sure we were doing a proper job. 

Not long after I went to work at that station, I noticed there was an office identified as a tire sales office.  I noticed that women were always running in and out of that one office, which was run by one guy.  Eventually, I deduced that the guy was a bookie and sometime later, he disappeared and one of the other guys said he thought Jim had gone to Canada.  So I assumed he had incurred the wrath of the mob and took off to save his skin.