The mechanics and attendants at that Virginia service station were good old mountain boys, and you know how mountaineers are...they don't "take" much to people who act uppity or put on airs.

Well, they had one customer, Mrs. Snodgrass, who gave them such a hard time they hated to see her coming. "Uppity" wasn't a near good enough word to describe her high-falutin' ways. Nothing pleased her, and she always fussed about the service. "Uh, young man," she would say with a sour, put-out look on her face, "you missed a bug there on my windshield. Are you sure your gas doesn't have water in it?...My car's not running right. Tell your boss I'm coming in tomorrow to get fresh air in all my tires." She let them know she was married to the mining superintendent, just about the biggest man in the county, and she loved to throw her weight around.

One time the boys towed in a wreck that was almost totaled. The radio was smashed, too, but one of the speakers was okay, so they decided to have some fun. They put that speaker under the seat in their outhouse and hooked the wire up to their amplifier and microphone in the office.

And as luck would have it, wouldn't you know the first person to come along for them to try it out on was...yep, Mrs. Snodgrass! She was serious about getting new air in her tires, the craziest thing the boys had ever heard of, but they told her it would cost two dollars per tire, for labor. if she was sure she wanted it done.

"Of course I want it done!" she bellowed. "Money is no object to me. You ought to know that. But be sure you use good, fresh air. None of that stale stuff. And while you're doing it, you might be kind enough to direct me to your, uh, powder room."

She'd never lowered herself to use their facilities before, so they figured this must be serious business. She wasn't going out there just to powder her nose. They watched her open the door and go in. About thirty seconds later, when they figured she had it in first gear and was shifting to second, they turned on the mike and spoke into it. "Uh, lady, would you mind going around to the other side. We're painting down here!"

She tore out of that outhouse like it was on fire, told them to skip the fresh air, gunned off down the road while the boys slapped their legs and bent over double laughing. They'd finally got even with Mrs. Snodgrass. And they figured she'd give a hundred dollars to know who that painter was, but, so I'm told, she's never to this day even mentioned the incident.

~Author unknown~