Tater Cannons and Boobs: All while pumping gas

Working for Mr. Walter Wilson at his gas station back in 1979/1980 was a highlight of my youth.  Lots of great memories of my friends cruising the town on Friday nights.  The glow of the lights from the Seven-Eleven store, the blinking railroad crossing lights with the train horn a blaring, and with bouts of Boston, ELO, Willie Nelson, and Lynyrd Skynyrd from which car was making the route on this end of town.  If only the boobs were as frequent as us shooting taters at each other from one station the other, well, maybe I'd thought twice about joining the Navy.