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The trusty Cummins engine of my haggard 1989 Kenworth W900 tractor put down its throaty bass line as I rocked and rolled my way towards Mira Loma, California. I had the stereo cranked up all the way so I could hear the jams over the roar of the old motor, my favorite Lynyrd Skynyrd track pushing me along as the sun peaked over the horizon.

  "Well I'm travelin' down the road, got my suit-case by my si-de." I sang along with the late great Ronnie Van Zandt as he told the story of my life in lyric. "Blue skies hang-in over my head, I got five-hundred miles to ri-de."

  Blues skies were present now, but the night that carried me over to this morning had been rough; lots of fog and rain in the mountains to keep my attention as I held on to the big wheel with white-knuckles. In my early truckin' days I probably would've stopped and hid, but I've seen just about everything Mother Nature has to offer out here. I don't often bend to her will any more.

  I was running late, after all, since I'd cut two drive tires back in Ohio. My rig was loaded to the brim with forty-thousand pounds of chocolate candy, so it wasn't too keen on moving over quickly when I spotted debris in my lane on the freeway. Shit happens, as they say... there wasn't much I could do but hold on tight and wrestle her over to the shoulder, then wait for the wrecker. That's another thousand bucks down the drain in rubber -- big truck driving can be a hell of a way to try and make a living.

  Outside of the weather and tire troubles, this run had been pretty straightforward. I managed to sneak into the MGM when I passed through Vegas, which is always fun. No help recouping my expenses at the craps table, though... should've known lady luck wasn't on my side before I ever sat down. I can't resist a good game of dice -- don't ask me why. I work hard for my money, you'd think I'd be a little more conservative when it comes to laying it out on the line (or the horn as it is in my case -- high-yo!).

  "Well I'm a Whiskey -- Rock-a-Rolla! That's what I am." I sung on. "Women, whiskey and mi-les of travelin' -- that's all I under-sta-a-and!"

  I pulled my attention from the road ahead and looked down at my gauges when I crossed the line into California, realizing I'd need to stop for one last shot of diesel before I continued on to make my drop. There wouldn't be time for a shower on this particular detour, but I'd at least have a little time to check out the load boards and figure out how I was gonna make my way back towards home. My son Sammy's mid-winter break was just a week away... I refused to miss another chance to catch up with him.

  A Pilot Travel Center in the distance was calling my name, so I flipped on my turn signal and merged right to catch the exit. The corrugated stainless steel sides of my trailer caught the sun as I stopped at the traffic light at the end of the ramp, a bright glare blinding people in the little cars next to me.

  My rig was old, but it was clean and well maintained. I've always been proud of it; even now with nearly two-million miles under my belt with her. I enjoy polishing and primping her every chance I get.

  The tractor seems powerful with its big, boxy lines and shining Metallic Black Cherry finish. There's no rust on my ride, baby -- not a spot from front to back. No dents, creases or folds in the metal... not even scrapes on the sides that most trucks get from brushing against untrimmed tree branches. I treat her like the queen that she is, and she always take good care of me in return.

  After making a hard right then jogging left into the entrance marked Trucks, I pulled up to the fuel island. My jaw dropped a bit when I saw that a gallon was gonna cost me nearly four dollars -- they're Nazi's out here on the west coast. I needed the juice, so I slid my Comcheck fuel card and watched the cents chug away.

  I topped off the tanks on both sides, taking a minute to open my side box and retrieve my trusty bottle of Windex. I loved working to shine Big Red up by scrubbing the bug carcasses off the front end. I gave her an affectionate pat on the grill as she rattled on, thanking her for keeping me company on another safe journey across the nation.

  The refrigeration device on the trailer was making a knocking noise, so I climbed up on the catwalk of the tractor and opened up the engine doors to see what could be wrong. My experienced ear could tell right away that it was the compressor getting ready to give up the ghost again... it was worn down pretty bad and the belt had loosened up, so the noise was it beating against the plastic guards.

  The innards of the machine weren't in good shape anymore; I had pushed the unit pretty hard for quite some time, and I was worried that it was gonna die on me any day.

  "Hold on there a little longer, Betsy." I begged the inanimate object. "I've got some money saved up, I'll get you changed out as soon as we roll back into Tampa."

  Closing the doors again, I checked the operator display at the side. The temperature in the trailer was still holding firm at fifty-five degrees; more than cool enough to keep all the Hershey bars I was loaded with from melting in the California heat. I hoped that I'd be lucky enough to book a return load that didn't need to run terribly cold. I could handle some produce or fresh meat, but I wasn't sure I wanted to test my reefer with anything that needed to be kept frozen.

  My finances were tight in the troubled economy, the last thing I needed was a big cargo claim. I carry good insurance, of course, but my reefer breakdown deductible is three-thousand big ones. Doesn't sound like much, but it would probably bankrupt me if I had to pay it out all at once on top of fixing my unit.

  The fuel pumps had stopping clicking at this point, so I snatched them out of my tanks. I had apparently run their supply pretty dry, as each of them took a hundred and forty-five gallons. You regular folks out there think you feel sick when you put fifty bucks in your SUV -- trying looking at the gauge and seeing over eleven-hundred on the display. Thank god for credit and reasonable interest rates is all I can say...

  I took my receipt and filed it away with all the others for my book keeper, Janet, to review when I got back home. That woman is a life saver, let me tell you. It's hard enough to muster the energy to keep these eighteen wheels turning without worrying about all the finances and taxes that come along with the territory.

  Janet had been my accountant, and dear friend, for ten long years. I don't know what I would do without her to sort through the nonsense for me. She helped keep me grounded, too... such a sweet voice and pleasant demeanor. That's probably why I call her everyday -- it's nice to have a solid friend to lean on, even when things seem to be going just right.

  Keeping with tradition, I dialed her number as I pulled my rig off towards the parking area of this stop off.

  "Good morning, Randy!" She said with her sweet southern drawl. She was an older woman, and her increasing age was evident in her voice. Years of smoking made it a little raspy, but I liked it that way. Reminded me of my mamma, God rest her soul, and it made me comfortable when I was so far from my home. "How's it going out there in the sunshine?"

  "It's going just fine, Misses Jan." I returned through a smile, adjusting my leather cowboy hat a bit. "Had a long night, though -- got a little hairy through the pass, but that's to be expected I guess."

  "You be careful out there, Randy!" She insisted. "I want you to come home with every one of your precious golden locks right where it was when you left, you hear me?"

  "Of course, Misses Jan!" I chuckled.

  That woman sure loved my hair... never quite understood why. It's a little greasy, for my taste. I had kept it shoulder length for most of my adult life, despite my own objections when it comes to comfort in the summer. I was often tempted to shave it down to a crew-cut, but I've got an image to maintain out here. My thick sideburns and goatee would look out of place if I cut it, and since it was so popular with the ladies I figured I might as well hold on to it a little longer.

  "Listen," I continued. "I don't know if my reefer is gonna hold on for the rest of the trip... do I have enough cash tucked away to call up the Thermo King shop when I get back home and have a whole new refurbished unit put on?"

 
"Oh my -- you're really looking to break the bank, aren't ya'?"

  "I know, I know -- but RJ's Cool Moves Transport can't be RJ's Cool Moves Transport if I don't have a good solid reefer on this box."

  "No, I suppose it can't." She replied. "What kind of backhaul do you have lined up?"

  "Well, I don't have one -- yet." I explained.

  "I reckon you'd better find one quick - there definitely won't be enough cash to cover something like that if you come all the way home empty!"

  "I'm fixin' to check the board in a minute, but I didn't see anything too fantastic when I looked last night. Remember - I have to pull something back towards Florida on this trip, because I've got time with Sammy coming up."

  "That's right! Mid-winter break, isn't it? I still don't know how you got his mother to agree to let you have him after you bailed out last time."

  "Now you know I didn't bail out, Misses Jan, I got held up by the law! That trooper shut me down for ten hours on account of my log book being behind, so I missed my delivery appointment and had to lay over for the whole weekend. Wasn't like I did it on purpose."

  "Where you gonna take him?"

  "We were talking about going to Universal Studios -- he's big enough to ride all the rides now, and I think he'd have a real good time."

  "He's the perfect age -- eight is a great time to build memories?"

  "Time sure has flown by..." I returned, remembering the day I took my ex-wife to the hospital like it was yesterday. We were so happy when little Sammy was born.

  I never would've thought time could do so much damage to a relationship as it had done to her and I. Life with a baby was just too hard on us, considering I was on the road more than I was home. She was there, alone, taking care of our son while I was out racking up the miles, trying to keep us at least in the race with The Joneses. I'd stay out a month, two months at a time -- so when I finally did make it back to town, all she wanted was a break.

  I didn't much enjoy having her just toss him at me when I walked through the door as she walked out in the opposite direction... I mean, I was tired too -- all I do out here when I'm not driving is eat, sleep or crap. Eventually, she found what she was looking for on one of her little excursions while I was playing babysitter; a man who would come home every night with his paycheck in hand.

  It hurt like hell when she served me with divorce papers. I guess I can't blame her, though -- what kind of life was I asking her to live? She was essentially a single mother right from the start, even though I wasn't dead or off having a little party of my own. I was working; doing what I thought I was supposed to. Of course, as I understand now, I was neglecting my family in the process. What was I supposed to do, though? Trucking is all I'm qualified to do.

  "It works out well for her, too." I explained. "Her and new hubby are gonna take a trip to Puerto Rico while they have the chance. If not for their having that planned, I'm sure I would've gotten a different answer when I asked to have him."

  "You ever think about fighting for a better arrangement?" Janet asked, just as she always does when we talk about Sammy. "There's no reason you shouldn't have joint-custody. It's not like your an addict or an alcoholic -- she shouldn't be able to keep him away from you."

  "Like I can take time off to be dragged through court... I don't think that's in the cards, girl -- just have to play by her rules for a while, until I can get enough money saved up to open my garage. Then I can be a real father to my boy."

  "You know," She continued with a dire tone. "I've always been up front and honest with you, Randy. I don't want to burst your bubble, but I just don't see how you're gonna make this grand idea about opening a garage happen with the way you've been bleeding red ink lately."

  "Where there's a will there's a way, Misses Jan. I'll stay out here 24/7/365 if I have to."

  "For all intents and purposes, you're doing that now. Your just spending too much money keeping that old rig on the road, and these shippers are just too cheap lately! I think it's time you consider an equipment upgrade... might cost more in the short term, but freeing yourself of these repair bills will pay off in the long run."

  "That's not gonna happen... I'd have to sign another lease, even if I could get the financing in order. I don't want to commit to being stuck out here a day more than I have to -- as soon as I'm able to park this beast and open up shop, I'm done."

  "I hope it works out for you, R.J... I really do. I'll do everything that I can to help." She paused and let go of a spirited sigh, revealing her lack of faith in my plans for the future. "I'll look over the books on this end, you go ahead and find yourself a means to pay for your return trip while I do. I should have an answer for you on the unit shortly -- hopefully it will be good news."

  "Thanks, Misses Jan." I said. "I'll talk to you again tomorrow."

  "Take care, sweetheart." She replied as I pressed the red button and tucked my cell phone back into the dash.

  My body put out a sigh of its own, the pressures of my life working as hard on me as they were on my dear friend. Obsessing over struggles never got anyone a step further ahead in this world, so I wasn't about to start walking that path. I cut off the engine to let it rest a while, bringing the vibrations in the cab to a halt.

  There was a strange peace about my little chrome and leather world when the machine was shut off... it almost seemed like a place I'd like to live. There was no time to enjoy it, however. I needed some food -- and I still had a delivery to make.

  Chapter 3