Envisage it, if you will.

A woman alone, pulls up to the gas station in her SUV. Parking beside one of the pumps.

And sits there. Not leaving her vehicle. Perhaps reading the card she found left on her car seat after work. The other pumps are empty, the only other people around are with the vehicle at the drive-up telephone (yes, we have such things), the clerk at the register inside the cancer store, and folks with the vehicle parked beside the cancer store.

At least a minute or two goes by, with the woman in the SUV remaining in her seat.

A bystander might wonder if she was in a time warp. "Service" at service stations went extinct in this part of the country at least two decades ago. But she sits waiting patiently, making no move to fill her own vehicle.

Then a brown pickup comes down the street and pulls up behind the woman's car, ignoring the three empty gas pumps. A man gets out, opens the cover to the gas tank of the woman's SUV, swipes his own card through the pump, and begins pumping her gas.

No words are exchanged, as she sits warm in her sealed environment, watching blowing mists of rain trying to become snow.

When done, the man walks forward to tell the woman the amount of gas, and receives a kiss on the lips for his service.

And the woman drives off.

It was fun. But I wonder how it looked.