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Only In LA: Gas Stations

In the rest of the country, the gas station is just another necessary eye sore. But here in LA, like everything else, the gas station is different.  First of all, it’s not optional–everybody’s filling up..all of the time. Second, (besides yoga class and AA meetings) it’s one of the few place we actually interact– or at least check it each other out.  Lastly, because we fill up so often, the gas stations are cash machines, occupying premium real estate and, increasingly, becoming architectural statements. Consider this bad boy on Robertson Blvd:

The Helios House is a stainless steel structure that holds 90 solar panels that power the station. Isn’t that great?  Fill your Escalade with $90 worth of Taliban juice without the guilt of straining on our power grid. Only in LA.

Equally ridiculous is this non-gas station:

You would think this was on Guam, Hokkaido or place with slightly lower ocean front property values than say… Malibu.  Ok, ok, this is actually at the corner of Topanga Canyon Blvd and PCH, which is officially 100 feet from Malibu, but still. It’s been non-operational for at least the past 10 years. Believe me, I know, I’ve been eye-ing it and considering a career as a squatter.  I’d even man the mini-mart if it came with a view like that.

My personal favorite is this landmark Beverly Hills station on Little Santa Monica:

It’s great, regardless if its inspriation came from this:

Or this:

It makes you wonder, though, what will we do if our gas station turns into this?

Where will we buy a Chic-O-Sticks? Do they sell rolling paper at Target? Will they put eco-friendly bathrooms next to the charger where we can “recycle our own waste?” What about cleaning the windshield? Where do we throw out incriminating evidence– like botox syringes, McDonalds wrappers and Neiman’s receipts? I’m just not sure that’s a world I wanna live in.