I thought I must have somehow slipped into a time warp.

I pull over for gas in Nova Scotia, somewhere in the heartland as I was driving from Halifax to Digby, and an attendant comes out and starts pumping my gas. That was enough to surprise me right there.

Then, damned if he didn’t take a squeegee and start cleaning my windows, all the while chatting amiably about the Red Wings and Penguins.

He didn’t go as far as to check my oil – if he had, I would have fainted – but he did ask if my tires needed air.

What happened to full-service gas stations in the U.S.? I miss them. You could sit in your car like the King of Egypt. It was like having someone wait on you in a restaurant.

Remember when they’d put air in your tires? Now, not only do they not do that, you often have to pay for it. For air!

Here’s a great gimmick. Bring back full-serice gas stations and have the attendants dress like Arab shieks.

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