Today I got gas at a “full serve” station for the first time in, well, I can’t remember when I’ve ever had someone pump my gas for me. The gas was actually cheaper at this place, so I didn’t even notice that I wasn’t supposed to do it myself. And I had to think really hard to remember what I was supposed to say. It went something like this:

[nice man waits patiently in the rain while I try to remember how to roll down the window in my mom’s car]
Me: Uhhh sorry, it’s my mom’s car. uhhhhh, fill it up with … [glances at selection of pumps] 87.
Ever helpful brother: What? You don’t call it ‘regular’?
Me: No. The last time I saw full service the choices were regular and unleaded.

I remember that there used to be three levels of service. “Full” meant that they checked your oil and cleaned your windows. Then there was something in the middle which I can’t remember the name of, where they just pumped gas. And sometimes there would be self service too.