The sum of a life

in a world dead set on multiplication

My great uncle Floyd was a simple man.

I was told that he had scarlet fever as a child. It impacted his ability to learn.

But as a kid?

I didn’t notice that much.

Old people always seemed to be taking forever to do anything.

With Floyd though?

The kids weren’t the only ones waiting.

He’d sell gas to people taking boats up the lake.

His gas pump?

It didn’t spin nor count. He pumped gas out of the storage tank by hand and into a small container.

It’s a true gallon - an official measure. Government certified.

Quick as a switch he’d pump out five gallons to fill the read metal tanks that would get hauled down to the boats - Evinrudes, Mercuries, Johnsons and the like. Two stroke outboards making the sweetest of smells

I said they’d get hauled down to the dock then put in the boats?

That was a mistake.

Running pure gas will kill yer engine. You gotta puts the oil into ‘er first.

Floyd never forgot the oil.

Then?

Then he’d take out his notebook.

On a line he’d write the price for a gallon of gas.

Then he…