Walthers Cornerstone, 933-3243, N Scale, Al's Victory Service, Kit

"Al's Victory Service Station"

The morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the sleepy intersection where Al’s Victory Service Station stood. The boxy building, with its pristine white enameled walls trimmed in cheerful red, seemed to radiate a quiet confidence. Al himself, dressed in his spotless uniform, stood at the pump, polishing the chrome handle with the same meticulous care he gave to every part of his business.

It was 1947, and post-war optimism hummed through the air. Cars chugged by, their drivers tipping hats and waving to Al, a beloved fixture in the neighborhood. He greeted each customer with a smile and a quick “Mornin’, how’re the kids?” before expertly checking their oil, washing their windows, and pumping their gas. For Al, this wasn’t just work—it was a way of life. He knew every regular by name, their stories as familiar as the rumble of a Studebaker or the growl of a Hudson.

A young boy on a bicycle skidded to a stop near the station. “Mr. Al!” he called, breathless with excitement. “The Johnsons’ car won’t start again!” Without missing a beat, Al grabbed his toolbox and hopped into the cab of his station’s tow truck, its red paint gleaming under the sunlight. “Be right back,” he called to his assistant, Joe, who was busy restocking oil cans.

Arriving at the Johnsons’ driveway, Al took one look under the hood of their old Ford and chuckled. “Your carburetor’s clogged again,” he said, tapping it lightly with his wrench. “This beauty’s just asking for a little TLC.” With a few quick adjustments, the engine roared back to life, and Mrs. Johnson beamed. “Thank you, Al,” she said. “We don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Back at the station, the day unfolded in a steady rhythm: a trucker passing through stopped for a coffee and a chat, a young couple admired the new gas pumps, and a deliveryman dropped off crates of shiny enamel signs. As twilight fell, the warm glow of the station’s lights illuminated the intersection, a beacon of reliability and kindness.

Though decades would pass and the world would change, Al’s Corner Station remained a cherished memory for everyone who had ever pulled up to its pumps. To this day, the name “Al” evokes not just a mechanic, but a symbol of community, hard work, and the simple joy of a job well done.

The finished Al's Victory Service Gas Station model measures: 3-1/4 x 2-1/4" 8.1 x 5.6cm

• Classic box-style gas station
• Realistic Art Deco styling
•  Freestanding streetside sign
• Decal signs
• Molded in appropriate colors and clear glazing
  
  Download the Instruction Sheet (1656 K bytes, PDF format)