I pulled my truck off at the next exit and dropped her into granny low at the light. Made the right into the truck stop and pulled up to the pumps. Time for fuel, both truck and body. I filled her up, topped off the Def and the reefer tank and pulled it up to a parking spot. As I was filling out my paper log, I happened to glance up at the other parked trucks and right there—in broad daylight—a rough looking young lady gets out of the passenger side of a truck and slams the door. She stagger-shambles over to the next truck and knocks on the door. Lot lizard. The scum and scourge of the open road. There are a vast majority of truckers out there who see these girls as highway angels, but not Ol’ Handsome. I would and have gone years without finding any strange and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna catch anything from one of these beauty queens. Once, I think this was down in West Memphis at a notoriously bad truck stop whose name I shall not mention, I was in the line-up of trucks parked for the night and the parking lot lights were dimly lighting the gravel portion of the lot. A lizard crawled out of the passenger side door of a truck, onto the step, and knocked on the next truck door beside it. He opened up and let her on in. Then, oh about twenty minutes later, she crawled out of his passenger side door and knocked on the next door, who also let her in. Truck by truck, she fucked her way through nearly a dozen trucks, never touching the ground. I was spellbound! This was some heinous shit right here but I couldn’t look away. Like a fifteen-car pile-up, I was captivated. The only thing that finally broke her winning streak was the empty spot between two parked trucks. She finally made contact again with Mother Earth. What a fucking industry. On a plus note, I’d guess she was properly lubed up for each guy that followed. The only thing I’ve seen to rival this little scene was a working girl over in Iowa. It had rained the day before and the gravel lot was huge with pothole ponds. This bitch gets out of a truck in a tiny little miniskirt with no panties on, squats over a shallow part of a puddle, snatches up some water and splash-washes her nasty coochie out right there on the lot. Oh man, I always think to myself, don’t matter how attractive they can be at times (and they can be on occasion) there’s been a lot of rough and gruff bareback riders ahead of me and I’ll have to take a firm pass on that action!
OK, so back to the matter at hand. This girl I’m looking at just then—in broad daylight, mind you—climbs up into the cab she was knocking on and not two minutes later, I’ll be goddamned if that truck didn’t rock just a bit. Certainly wasn’t nobody up in the driver seat anymore. Curtains were drawn as I walked past the truck to the store and wasn’t nobody in sight. Go get ’er, cowboy! I opened the door to this fine little establishment and sauntered on in. My boot heels click-thumped on the hard-tiled floor and my wallet chains a’jingled. I got a nice hot refill of coffee in my thermos mug and walked over to the Cinnabon stop.
“One for the road please,” I requested as the portly gal behind the counter finished checking facefuck or Facebook or whatever the fuck it’s called. Can’t get with any of that social media shit, once again—I’m just too old school, I guess. She filled my order and I walked over to the main registers. The middle age honey behind the counter was chewing gum and looking like there were exactly 5,357 other places she’d rather be right now than here. “Right out in broad daylight,” I mentioned casually.
She looked up making eye contact with me. “I’m sorry?” She puzzled.
“Working girls running around in broad daylight out there. Must be tough times.” She gave a cursory glance toward the front doors.
“Where? Here?”
I looked over to the doors and pointed, “Yeah, here. Right outside on your parking lot just now. Tough times.”
Her face grew more severe as she grabbed a very small mic at her shirt collar, pressed the send key and said clearly, “We got a lizard on the lot.” Presumably, someone on the other end was currently springing into action to get the big bad lizard.
I kinda smiled uneasily, “Oh now, I wasn’t trying to get the poor girl in trouble or nothin’. I guess she’s gotta eat, too.” She was clearly flustered now.
“No, these girls have gotta learn to stay away from here.” She finished the transaction and said, “Have a nice day, sir.” I nodded and wished her one also, then headed out to hopefully not run into any trouble from the previous altercation. I didn’t. I did, however, see a ponched, overweight momma’s boy walking around with a two-way radio and looking very hard for the trespasser. I walked past him and climbed up into my Pete. I had a few hours before my delivery and I was only a few miles away so I climbed into the sleeper bunk and pulled the curtain closed. Time for shuteye. My last thought before drifting off to sleep was Watch your back, girl. Sorry if I got you into any trouble. I didn’t mean to.
Sleeping in an idling 18-wheeler is beyond peaceful to the long-haul trucker who has been out here for decades. The quietly rumbling and vibrating engines lulls even the mightiest and beefiest trucker off to lala land sometimes in mere seconds. The cab walls and the constant drone of the idle keeps out all of the outside world to the sleeping trucker. The only occasional annoyance is the random airhorn or the more repetitive lot lizard knock at night. Those can just about make a man—or woman—want to strangle somebody. Other than that, sleep is restful and invigorating in the sleeper. The downside to this is that when you come home after being gone for a month or more, the still quiet of the bed and bedroom at home will drive you completely bug shit! Owning my own truck and trailer, I have often found myself at home sleeping out in the idling truck in the driveway. It’s a nice little ranch style home out on four acres of land in the country so I won’t bother anyone but the squirrels doing this. And it avoids having to install a quarter-operated vibrating bed in my room. Anyway, if there was any type of altercation in the parking lot that day, I slept through it. By the time I had awoken, the store had a shift change and a number of the trucks had moved on. I rubbed my eyes, lit a smoke and crawled up in the driver’s seat to wake up the rest of the way. Still had an hour and some change till my appointment, but I thought I’d get a move on anyway. Time is money to the owner-op. Time to make it.
Frozen fish and other assorted refrigerated and frozen food items to be delivered to the local zoo. That was my load. I have to say, even after long haul trucking for 24 years…this was a goddamned first for me. I pulled into the truck loading/unloading lot at the zoo, just about a half hour after close of business, got out and opened up my trailer doors. I expertly backed into the loading dock and popped the parking brakes. That hiss and groan of air releasing always brought back memories of a younger, actually more handsome version of myself just learning the ropes out here and the grizzled old man that taught me all the essentials: backing, shifting, Georgia overdrive, you know—the essentials. Georgia Overdrive, to the layman, is basically being loaded to the maximum weight limit allowed by law, getting to the top of a mountain and dropping the gear shift into neutral. Dangerous to the untrained beginner, a total and complete rush to an old hat like me. Get her up to triple digits and hold on for dear life, praying to the god of bad-assed truckers that there are no full-grown bears in the woods up ahead. Those were the days. I’m afraid those thrill-seeking days and pushing this old Pete to the edge are somewhat behind me now. I have a nice fat bank account so, for the most part, I can cruise a bit easier and not push it to the limit. Plus, to my shame, my reflexes ain’t what they used to be when I wore a younger man’s clothes. I made notations in my paper log and with a scratch at my scruffy face, I got out. Gonna have to clean that mess of fur up next stop I get, but for now, who ordered the fish?
Another couple of hours later and I was once more pulling off at an exit with a truck stop. Getting on toward night time now and since I had plenty of time to my backhaul—canned food, big whoopty shit—it was clocking out time. I needed a shave and a hot shower and some real shuteye. I got maneuvered into a nice spot down on the end of the row butted up against a five-foot-tall corn field. One rig on my left, corn gently swaying in the warm night air on my ri
ght. This is the best kinda spot to grab. Even less chance for a disturbance. Plus, should mother nature call in the middle of the night, hop out the passenger’s side and water the corn. In a pinch, you could even go a few rows in and pop a squat if you didn’t feel like getting all dressed up to go in and use the facilities. Hey, that’s life on the road, folks. Take it where you can get it. I finished my paperwork and strolled inside with my duffel bag of clothes and shower supplies.
At the kiosk, I swiped my card and the automated voice told me that shower 6 was now ready for me. Sweet, no wait. I went inside and locked the door. The shower was clean and hot and much needed. I still had the smell of frozen fish and penguin shit up my nostrils. A shit, a shower and a shave later, I was out the door and headed to grab a bite of killer truck stop cuisine. A man cannot live on Pall Mall’s alone. Walking through the aisles, a beautiful woman glanced up at me and gave me the most radiant smile I guess I had ever seen. I know what and who I am and I knew this to be just a passing pleasantry so, being a gentleman, I smiled, tipped my Stetson and said, “Ma’am,” and continued on. I felt like having a beer tonight, so I grabbed out a six pack of Busch and grabbed a bag of beef jerky. At the counter, I also got a carton of smokes and two slices of truck stop pizza, my favorite. I paid and headed for the door. The same pretty lady was looking at a display rack near the exit and our eyes met.
“Hi,” She said sheepishly. “Can I ask you a question please?” An intangible gear in my head shifted. Didn’t I know where this was going? Too bad, I thought, you seemed like such a nice young thing. Here we go.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” She moved a step closer, tried to look me in the eyes, but her gaze kept wandering embarrassed back down to her tennis shoes.
“I know you must get this a lot but I am so stranded right now and if you were heading east, I could really use a ride.” She blurted out suddenly. Now it was my turn to look down at my faded old boots. I sighed. “I’m totally safe,” she continued, “I have nothing on me. No money, no weapons, no food or anything. I’d be no problem to you at all. I just gotta get back east is all.” My gaze came long and hard back up to meet her young and innocent one.
“I am heading east, well, actually northeast but I’m not going anywhere tonight and as much as I’d like to help you out, I sure can’t have a total stranger in my truck with me while I’m sleeping. I don’t know you and I can’t trust you like that. You have to understand my position here.” She kind of nodded in a downhearted way.
“Oh, yeah, no. I totally get that. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.” She quickly hurried off.
“Much as I’d like to have gotten you alone,” I muttered to myself. I headed out to my truck. Life was just strange and often times very hard for folks on the road. It was a mean ol’ world and a pretty young face like hers could be hiding the most devilish intent. You wanted to help a person out, you tried to trust people, and after the first year on the road, that shit ended abruptly. It was a mean ol’ world.
Settled into my bunk in the truck, my hat on the seat up front, boots off to the side, I lay on my back with my ankles crossed, one arm up behind my head and the other hand resting on my chest with a lit smoke. I took a long soothing drag and thought about the little lady in the store. Was she out there tonight trying to thumb a ride or had she already found one? Was she off being raped or killed somewhere? I just had to stop caring. It wasn’t my worry, that’s all. I just couldn’t shake the thought that if me and the old lady had had a kid, boy or girl, they’d be about her age by now. I took the last drag and snuffed out the smoke. Fuck it, I thought, gotta get some sleep. I turned out the light and drove out the thinking and let that big ol’ diesel deliver me off to sleep.
Boom boom boom. Hmmm. Bleh.
Boom boom boom. No. Don’t do that. Sleeping.
Boom boom boom. The fuck? I came fully awake and sat up on one arm in the dark.
Boom boom boom. I got up with a grunt and a groan of agitation. It had begun. I plopped down in the driver’s seat and pulled the privacy curtain forward. A gorgeous young lady stood just outside the door looking up at me and smiling. She was kinda bouncing back and forth casually from one foot to the other in expectation. I smiled and said, “whoo” to myself then rolled down the window.
“Hey, cowboy, you looking to party a little tonight?” I rubbed my eyes and focused a bit better.
“God, girl, you are gorgeous, but what are you? 15?”
She smiled even bigger and said in retort, “Nope. I’m an old lady of 19 going on twenty.” I guffawed.
“Bullshit, kid. If you’re a day over 17, I’ll fuckin’ eat my Stetson.” She looked slightly confused now.
The hand she had resting on her hip slowly began to pull up on her shirt until the bottom of a cute little light green bra was visible as she was saying, “Come on, cowboy, I have a really soft warm spot for Marlboro men.” This was kinda funny to me as I lit up a smoke.
I said, “Well then, I’m gonna have to take a polite pass, sweetheart. I’m a Pall Mall man all the way. Thanks anyway,” I smiled, beginning to roll up my window.
She blurted out, “Are you sure, cowboy? Might be the best party you’ve ever been to.” I stopped and rolled the window back down.
I leaned out and said, “Baby, do yourself a favor. Quit. Go home to your family and get your fuckin’ ass in college while you still have time. This life will fuck you over and leave you dead in a ditch.”
She grew severely offended, took a step back and shouted, “Hey, fuck you mister! Who the fuck are you to judge me and my life…” and blah blah fucking blah. I rolled up my window mid-scream. She stormed off to the next truck. Be careful, sweetheart. I finished my smoke and got back in the poke. I hate nights like this. Took me a bit to get off to sleep, then the next lizard hit. These fucking girls travel in goddamned packs, too. I knew I was in for a long night. The general practice is one lizard per hour, spaced out to make sure for maximum efficiency. I thought about using the old trick of hanging a pair of women’s panties from the driver’s side window as a sign to stay away because there was a woman on board. To do that, I’d have to go in the store again and buy a pair. Guess I’d have to start keeping a pair in here. The other problem is a buddy of mine did this trick and a fucking lizard took the panties and ran off with them. It’s a weird ol’ world, as well as mean.
The other rule of thumb about lizards that almost never fails is what I like to call the bar babe theory. The bar babe theory is just how it sounds. The later in the night it gets, the uglier and fuglier the girls get. By one or two in the morning, these bitches are crawling up out of the gutters with their crack pipes still in their mouths. Heinous. I could feel myself nodding off again. Please give me a little rest here, huh? I’m too old for this shit. I was gone to the world when the third lizard struck. And on and on and on it went that night. They’d set ’em up and I’d knock ’em back. I’m sorry to say that by 12:30 or so in the morning, I was not being charming or nice about it anymore though. Quite angrily I’d roll the window down with a “Fuck off!” and roll the window up before they could even respond. By then, the girls were so rough that one of them had a dime-sized mess of the herps on her bottom lip. The best the sewers have to offer. That was a long goddamned night. On a plus note, the girl who needed to go east didn’t cross my mind again that night. A week or so later, she did. In a big way.
I was just outside of Boise, Idaho, heading southeast on I-84 and hauling a big ol’ load of taters to Nashville. This was definitely not my favorite venture, a heavy ass load of spuds through the Rockies, but the load paid well and after this load, I’d backhaul from Nashville to Arkadelphia, Arkansas which in turn, took me home. I’d been out here now a few weeks longer than my normal run time and with a few dollar-a-doos in the bank, I could take about three weeks off to recuperate and feel somewhat human again for a while. I had a handful of hours yet before I had to shut down for the night, so I put a bit of ol’ Hank Sr. on the tunes box
and rolled the window down a few inches. Cruising faster than was really safe for these parts at night, I was a juggernaut growling like a demon and tearing a huge gaping wound right through the center of the night. I watched my headlights illuminate the mountains, valleys, trees and all of God’s green and brown beauty. A few more miles up the road…my life would change forever. A figure was standing beside the road and waving a flashlight over their head. I Jake braked and slowed to a crawl and then to a stop beside the figure. She—it turned out—approached the driver’s side of the rig. I rolled my window down and stared with honest bemusement at the young lady from the truck stop who needed a ride east.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” I said over the engine. “Thought you were going east? I think you made a wrong turn, dear.” She smiled up at me.
“Cowboy! Oh my god, I am so glad you came along! There are some really fucked up people out here!” She nervously smiled, I think in an attempt to convince herself that I wasn’t one of them. “Please don’t leave me out here.” She waited.
“I can leave a pretty young thing at a fully staffed truck stop and not lose a second of sleep over it, but not out here in the willy-wags. Come on, climb in.” She cheered, clapping her hands and took off for the passenger’s side. I unlocked it and she climbed aboard.
Individually Wrapped Horrors Page 5
