I was somewhat taken aback but not totally shocked. It’s happened before. There’s something about the combination of the mythic lifestyle, the proximity of the carefully made double-sleeper bed, and the privacy that makes the truck, under certain conditions, a jolly fine aphrodisiac. It’s an immediate alternate universe.
We spent a pleasant afternoon on the beach. It was a lovely July day. Trevor loosened up, and we swam out to the float and splashed around playing Marco Polo. We got out and we skipped the flat stones that were all over the beach, and I bought him an ice cream sandwich. I sat for a while with Mrs. Howard and learned her first name was Alice. Later that afternoon they went back to town to camp in the empty house and I ate an excellent meatloaf and mashed potatoes at the local diner. I fell asleep reading Mansfield Park in my mushy motel bed.
A little after midnight I heard a knock on my door. I threw on a shirt and some shorts. “Who is it?”
“Alice Howard.”
I opened the door. “Where’s Trevor?”
“Asleep.”
She lunged in, shut the door, and pulled me into her arms hugging me close for a long time. Then she turned her face up and kissed me. It was a deep, passionate, needful, longing kiss. Then she pulled my shirt off. She led me to the bed, took off my shorts, and lay next to me.
“Undress me, please.”
I complied, with mixed feelings. Maybe she was crazy. On the other hand, she was obviously someone starved for a human touch and so was I. We made love quickly on the cheap motel bed. She came in like ninety seconds, which is something I’d never experienced before. We lay there awhile, silent, and then we started in again. About 3 a.m. we woke up and she said she had to leave. I kissed her goodnight and she was gone.
The next morning I called the TO, and he said the situation was developing and I was to continue standing by being paid waiting time and to expect developments soon. I was pretty sure Alice would be seriously regretting the night before, so I decided to fill my day elsewhere.
I hooked up my trailer and headed out of town to the Goodyear tire dealer. I’d been neglecting my tires, and that always spells trouble. I have eighteen tires and they’re always in flux. The wear varies and the air pressure changes. Just checking that all tires have the required 95 psi is a dirty job that takes at least 45 minutes. I knew I needed a new inside left on my front trailer tandem and I wanted the tire guys to check my front tractor tires.
I’ve had lots of flats over the years. Usually when it happens I hear a bang like a close-up pistol shot and then, depending on which tire blew, a certain amount of new vibration. If I’m running empty and the flat is a trailer tire, I won’t feel much at all. If it’s a drive tire on my tractor and I’m full, then I’ll feel it a lot. I can drive a certain distance with one of these flats but not far. The flat tends to heat up, and if it gets too hot it will catch fire. The last flat I had was in Texas. I heard the bang and saw the gator in my mirror taking up the roadway. I pulled over to check it out. It was the Fourth of July and I was in the middle of nowhere. I looked up and saw I was right at an exit. Next to the ramp was a Goodyear truck tire dealer. I limped over to the yard and there was a sign with a phone number for emergency service. I called it and ten minutes later a guy showed up from his holiday barbecue and changed my tire in about seven minutes. That’s the way to get a flat. The bill was $600: $350 for the tire and $250 for the holiday service call. That’s why I lease my truck. I don’t buy tires and I don’t pay for repairs.
The real problem with flats is when one of the front tires blows out. All of a sudden the truck lurches hard over to the side that blew. It grabs the steering wheel and yanks it. Hard. There’s no holding it. The tractor goes into a rapid deceleration and the trailer momentum has a tendency to want to ride over the tractor. The range of possibilities is that the truck will go into the adjacent lane out of control, careen off the shoulder and into a gully, or jackknife and flip. Other trucks or four-wheelers anywhere near will be sucked into mayhem. All drivers are terrified of front-wheel blowouts. For four-wheelers driving next to trucks, I’d recommend never staying near the front wheels with your car. When passing a truck, pass it fast and get ahead of it. I’ve had one front-wheel blowout in my career. It happened in South Carolina, naturally, late at night. I was lucky and I wrestled it to a stop without incident. I had to call TC for a Comchek that night for over $1,000. When I was finally towed to the tire place, I purchased two brand-new Michelin X Line steering tires. Never again, I hoped. Trucker legend has it that flat tires come in threes.
I returned to Lakeland in the early evening and ate my dinner again at the diner. It was fish-and-chips night. Then I walked back to the motel.
I’d been thinking of our little romp pretty much all day. Alice was sweet and vulnerable, and I figured I’d pretend the whole thing never happened. Movers aren’t supposed to sleep with their shippers. I lay down on my motel bed and tried to sleep when just after midnight I heard the knock on the door I’d been half hoping to hear and half dreading. Alice was there, wearing a short skirt and tank top. I pulled her inside, shut the door, and pushed her against it while reaching under her skirt. She grabbed my arms and pushed me onto the bed, yanking at my clothes.
Afterward, we lay in bed talking, making love, talking. I didn’t really learn anything new. Her husband was a control freak with no emotional life, no sex drive, and on a career track. That was pretty much it. Alice was a warm woman whose self-confidence, never strong, had been shattered by him.
On day three the TO said to continue standing by, with pay. Alice and Trevor went back to the beach. I drove to the Brunswick pool table factory and took a tour. Making a pool table was pretty interesting, but I couldn’t really pay attention. I was looking at all the skilled white union workers knowing they were dead men walking. All I was wondering was how long it would take for this factory to move offshore.
That night, Alice showed up again just after midnight. She was wearing a short print dress. When I opened the door she pushed me back and put her finger to her mouth, imploring me to be quiet. She walked back to the doorway, turned around to face me, and slowly released the shoulder straps of her dress. She turned again and let the dress drop to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath. I stood there mesmerized as she told me to lie down.
“Do you want me?” she asked.
“I do,” I croaked.
On day four the TO called me and said the load was going back to Nebraska. I returned to the Howard place to say good-bye. Alice and Trevor were loading the car for the trip back. Alice sent Trevor into the house to get something and we talked for about a minute, maybe less.
“So,” I said, “it’s back to the base?”
“Yes. Incarceration is better than exile.”