“Gas Money” by George Hughes on the cover of “The Saturday Evening Post,” March 26, 1960.
“Here’s the pitch on George Hughes’ cover painting . . . Big Ron ordered a tankful of gas for his car and is mortified to discover that he hasn’t a dime to his name. His chums weren’t able to lend him enough. Will the Scrooge who operates the station let Ron leave the premises to borrow money from his father? Not on your life; he wants his $4.07 now and no back talk. The moral of the story: have your old man’s credit card with you at all times.” – The Editor
Lou looks like the kind of guy who’s been around long enough to know every bolt and gasket in a flathead V8. That blue uniform and stern posture aren’t just for show. He’s not just guarding the pump; he’s guarding a code. In his world, a deal’s a deal, and $4.07 is sacred.
But whether he would take apart Big Ron’s hot rod is another matter. That car isn’t just metal and chrome. It’s pride, rebellion, and the dream of speed stitched into every part. Lou might grumble, might threaten to pull the carburetor out with his bare hands, but deep down, he knows what that car means to those boys. He sees the posture of Ron’s friends, the way they hover near the vehicle like it’s a shrine. Lou’s not heartless—just principled.
Still, if Ron mouths off, Lou might just pop the hood and start itemizing parts like a repo man with a wrench. The moral might shift from “carry your dad’s credit card” to “don’t underestimate a man who’s lived through three recessions and still wears a pressed uniform.”
“Gas Money” by George Hughes on the cover of “The Saturday Evening Post,” March 26, 1960.
“Here’s the pitch on George Hughes’ cover painting . . . Big Ron ordered a tankful of gas for his car and is mortified to discover that he hasn’t a dime to his name. His chums weren’t able to lend him enough. Will the Scrooge who operates the station let Ron leave the premises to borrow money from his father? Not on your life; he wants his $4.07 now and no back talk. The moral of the story: have your old man’s credit card with you at all times.” – The Editor
Lou looks like the kind of guy who’s been around long enough to know every bolt and gasket in a flathead V8. That blue uniform and stern posture aren’t just for show. He’s not just guarding the pump; he’s guarding a code. In his world, a deal’s a deal, and $4.07 is sacred.
But whether he would take apart Big Ron’s hot rod is another matter. That car isn’t just metal and chrome. It’s pride, rebellion, and the dream of speed stitched into every part. Lou might grumble, might threaten to pull the carburetor out with his bare hands, but deep down, he knows what that car means to those boys. He sees the posture of Ron’s friends, the way they hover near the vehicle like it’s a shrine. Lou’s not heartless—just principled.
Still, if Ron mouths off, Lou might just pop the hood and start itemizing parts like a repo man with a wrench. The moral might shift from “carry your dad’s credit card” to “don’t underestimate a man who’s lived through three recessions and still wears a pressed uniform.”