My fascination with old garages and gas stations has been with me since I was a little girl, for no concrete reason beyond the fact that the scent of years of gasoline and oil muddled with dust and dirt, the soft glow of the signage lights now outmoded, the hum of a radio over the rhythmic click of socket wrenches, and the oasis of iridescent pools of gas pump bay lights on an otherwise dark highway, these are things that have always comforted me. Maybe because so much of my life has been spent on the road? Perhaps because under the hood is one of a handful of tranquil places for me? I suspect that comfort is buried on some primal level that I cannot explain if I try, something deeply subconscious.
Dharma Anchor 
I enjoy the same fascination though I know nothing about cars except how to drive them.
Lol, well that’s better than a lot of people. 🙂
I know what you are talking about. My dad had one of those old style petrol pumps and he used to let me run them and fill up customer’s cars. I can still smell the smell of the gasoline, hear the clicking of the dials and the pump and see the evaporation of the fumes.
That’s awesome! I love those little madeleines that hang around decades later.
Especially with the spots of rust and the loud motor noise compared to the modern digital ones.
Fuel for thought… 🙂
🙂
That B&W of the sign with all of the empty space is really great!
Thank you 🙂