Welcome to Buc-ee’s, America’s Best Beaver-Hosted Gas Superstation

Anne smiling and pointing next to an employee in a furry Buc-eee suit. Behind them are gas station snack displays.

IT’S BUC-EE! IT’S BUC-EE! I KNOW HIM!

When I was a kid, gas fill-ups were just another ordinary errand, like buying groceries or refilling your parents’ prescription or suffering at the dentist: they had to be done, but nobody ever giggled with anticipation or clapped their hands at the sight of those establishments. Sure, groceries got less tedious after WWII when the FDA legalized flavor, but nobody rational ever thought gas stations were fun…least of all during the 1970s energy crisis, when America’s last hundred gallons had to be split 100 million ways. Getting gas was expensive and dispiriting and, worst of all, it was really boring.

Here in the 21st century, everything must be fun now. Any human activity or business that doesn’t entertain us is ignored or shamed, which might explain why so many people in our neighborhood don’t mow their lawns anymore. Gas stations aren’t exempt: we can’t just pull up, pump, pay, and proceed. We’d fall asleep with the nozzle in our hand and spray gas everywhere. We need at least one (1) thrilling moment while we’re there. At some chains, the pumps have little screens showing ads, or music piping through speakers, or apps encouraging customers to come inside for all the snacks and bargains. Years ago, somewhere in Texas, a brilliant entrepreneur figured out a new angle: what if you crossed a gas station with a Walmart and a Disney World gift shop? Because everything’s better with cartoon animals!

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Our 2021 Road Trip #3: 4-Wheel Gawks in an 18-Wheel World

IOWA 80 Truck Stop!

YOU THERE! TURN HERE! GO ENJOY! DO IT NOW! DO IT! NOW NOW NOW!

Among the roughly six hundred million Americans who’ll tell you road trips are their specialty right before sending you a link to their blog that you’ll never click on, Anne and I are merely meek, doughy amateurs compared to the real road-tripping professionals. I don’t mean canceled Travel Channel hosts or social media influencers with sports cars or wanted homicidal fugitives. I mean America’s truck drivers. They’ve been to more states than we have, they’ve seen more horrors than we ever will, they’ve brushed off more honking and more middle fingers than I hope I’ll ever have to, though I should probably stop competing with them on that front and maybe moderate some of my driving habits.

I imagine truck drivers scoff at civilians who take too much pride in their weaksauce hundreds-of-mile journeys taken in their puny four-wheeled jalopies. Truck drivers also have bragging rights for the fact that they get paid for all that driving, extremely unlike us pretenders. But they do have one thing in common with us: they love to be spoiled while they’re on the road. To those discerning highway kings and queens, Iowa offers quite the extended roadside intermission.

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