Barnecut’s Shell has been in West Seattle a whole lot longer than I have, but even that’s a long time. Dick Barnecut and his son, Andy, have been taking care of my cars since I moved to West Seattle in 1988. But on July 1, 2013, they will be closing their doors forever.

The economy has hit hard. Sometimes it’s all statistics, grim reports on the news, or stories from a different place. We’ve seen a lot of places close in West Seattle over the years, many as hard times hit in 2008. But sometimes it’s somebody we know.

What happens? The big box store down the street undercuts prices, and still we shop there. The owners get tired or simply get to retire and kick back. Or some combination thereof. Sometimes it’s hard times, sometimes it’s just time, but the end result is the same: we’re losing a family business.

Here’s what I know. I’m going to miss Barnecut’s. I’m going to miss getting gas and checkups where they know my name and I know theirs.

Here’s something else I know. I was fortunate enough to spot Andy at the station on my way home yesterday, and even though I only needed a quarter tank, I pulled in to fill up and get the chance to say goodbye.

As luck would have it, the best thing happened, because Dick was there, too. Now Dick’s been retired a long time, so you hardly get to see him. But I got a chance to hug them both, to thank them for taking care of me and West Seattle all these years, for being good people and neighbors.

I’m going to miss that. I was born and raised in a small town, and I ran to the big city to get away from that. But truth is, the small town girl is still in there, still wanting to do business and be friends with my neighbors. Still kind of missing that tie.

My dad was a pharmacist and gift shop owner in Stayton, Oregon, and I had the privilege of working with him in his store from the time I was 12 until I graduated from college. I learned a lot about business from my dad. How to count change. How to smile and be polite. How to work even when I was tired. How to wrap a gift.

How to be a good neighbor. My dad took care of people in ways I saw only because I was there. He never talked about it. He just did it. Helped a young man whose wife was dying. Gave money to a man in need. Took care of his family.

I was telling Dick and Andy Barnecut a bit about my dad yesterday. How proud I was of him, and them, for being good neighbors first and foremost.

“Yeah, my dad’s like that,” Andy said, smiling at Dick.

Yes, I remember the time I was on my way to the dentist and had a flat tire. Andy drove down to my condo and filled the tire so I could drive up to the station. Dick was waiting. He took the tire off, patched it, put it back on, and I jumped in the car, saying, “Thanks, Dick, I’ll be back to pay for it later.”

He just laughed as I drove off. And laughed again when I stopped by later that day to pay (interest free, unlike every bank you know).

I’ll miss the service. I’ll miss them. But I’m grateful that they were there all those years when I needed them. When West Seattle needed them.

Happy adventures, Dick and Andy!

© 2013 Robyn M Fritz