BP Country

Left Louisville before 6 am and drove straight into a thunderstorm. I eased along at about 45, but when water began sheeting across the highway, I pulled off for about ten minutes until the rain slowed. Within an hour, I was on the eastern side of the storm, facing gray skies and sprinkles for a little while. Then it cleared.

I cut south just east of St. Louis, and soon headed west on country roads into the Missouri Ozarks. More hills, curves and green. Stretches where I saw no house, no car, no signs of humanity for ten minutes. I even drove through one small town and saw no one, no moving vehicles.

The roadsides were a dazzle of Queen Anne's Lace, blackeyed Susan, and bachelor button. When I passed through small towns, yards burst with daylillies - the orange, always, but also yellow, burgundy and peach. Sometimes they spill out of the yards and down to the roadsides, mingling with the wildflowers.

Ever since I got to central Texas, I have been in BP country. Some small towns have only one gas station, and it's BP. Residents of those towns are, at least sometimes, forced to buy their gas from BP.

Everywhere I went, BP stations had little to no traffic. On Saturday, as I drove through Union City MO, it was about noontime and the town was bustling. Cars filled grocery store parking lots and fast food places appeared to be jammed. Every gas station had a car at almost every pump. Every gas station but one. The BP station had a dozen pumps and only one vehicle was there.

People are making their feelings known with their debit cards and credit cards. BP stations stand empty. Those few stations with customers usually had people in the little mini mart, not cars sitting at the pumps.

In Louisville, a gas and service station closed some time ago (see prices). I don't know the whole story, but it was a Clark station with a huge PB sign. The sign has been recently draped to cover the offending logo.