Mr Brochu, who is afflicted with Parkinson's disease, operates the gas station/social centre of the title, fighting what feels like a losing battle against theft, competition and the disinterest of his two eldest sons. But, the hub of a community of sorts, he provides a more or less friendly face and a place to sit for assorted types. This gently melancholy, quietly affecting drama of lives most local offers no real revelations, but builds a convincing low key picture of aspirations compromised and relationships in patchwork progress. It's also telling on the means by which a sense of place - the weave of people, position, incident and history - is maintained, and how easily it can slip. Asking understated questions about the shape and priorities of life, as well as its underlying economic pressures, the film riffs around a timeless tune.