From previous trips with Hugh, Jenny had experience with preparing meals within the limitations of the small cab, and she had adapted quite well.
It was about a two-hour jaunt from the ranch to the 2 p.m. pick up in Spokane. It was still morning at the ranch, but Hugh wanted to start early enough to get ahead of any problems that might come up during this shakedown trip. After all, the truck hadn’t been on the road for several weeks.
He had been keeping an eye on the big rig all along – making sure the tires stayed inflated, checking fluid levels, and keeping the battery charged, but Hugh had always believed in erring on the side of caution.
He had made sure the load at the precision parts manufacturing plant in Spokane was a pre-loaded trailer because he didn’t have an empty trailer with him, and empties were few and far between in this neck of the woods.
As Hugh was beginning his pre-trip he saw Jenny and Martha come trooping out of the house with arms full of bags of clothing and sacks of food and other essentials.
They climbed up into the cab to arrange everything. Jenny was familiar with Hugh’s preferences, and Martha had been doing this task for years.
“How’s it looking?” Hugh asked when he saw them. He had been so busy getting ready it was the only words he had spoken with anybody since everybody cleared out of the kitchen after breakfast.
“Doing good,” Jenny yelled out the driver’s side window at Hugh as he was elbows deep under the hood checking the oil and other fluids.
Jenny finished arranging her own things, and helped Martha take care of the rest. Then she grabbed the bottle of windshield cleaner and rags and began cleaning all of the truck’s windows and mirrors. That had been her job during previous trips with Hugh.
Hugh finished inside the engine compartment and slammed the hood down, so Jenny swung up onto the hood to clean the windshield. Seeing her do that, Hugh couldn’t help but grin at her. He saw her wink at him.
Hugh and Jenny had had a rough beginning when he had first picked up what he thought was a vagrant male hitchhiker on a lonely stretch of Nevada highway. One of the first fun moments they had shared was Hugh blatantly staring at Jenny’s lithe figure the first time she had stretched herself over the hood to clean his windshield. Jenny teased him about it then, and it was now an inside joke with them.
“Hey, Mom,” Hugh shouted, “Can you call the guys and tell them we’re almost ready to bug out?”
Mentioning calling the guys reminded Hugh he needed a new phone. His had gotten lost during his last encounter with Jenny’s uncle. Her uncle was the leader of the hijackers, and that fight had been the final one ending the attacks against him by the gang.
He’d been using the ranch landline phone to make the few phone calls he’d needed to make, but he knew he was now going to need a new phone for the road.
He recalled seeing a cell phone store in Sandpoint, the nearest town. He planned to pick up a newer model smartphone on the way out.
The preparations finished, all that was left was to say goodbye to everybody and to get on the road.
Martha told Hugh and Jenny to come into the house and into the kitchen to pick up bag lunches for their trip. Hugh’s mom was never one to send people away without feeding them first.
Father and son and Jimmy came in, and Mary came downstairs from where she had been studying.
The men were doing and saying the regular guy things: “Drive careful,” “Be safe,” shaking hands, hugs with back slaps. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh noticed Martha and Mary had pulled Jenny away from the men and were deep into conversation with her.
Eventually, Hugh and Jenny were able to break free and head toward the truck. They had a final hug and kiss for Martha and Mary, then climbed into the cab and clicked on their seat belts.
Hugh punched in “On duty, driving” into his ELD. As he began to back the truck out of its parking spot he could see his mom trying, and failing, to hold back tears.
“I’m thirty-six years old,” he said to Jenny, as he kept his eyes on his mirrors backing out. “I’m a Marine. Seen combat. I’ve been driving truck for fifteen years. Mom still cries every time I leave from home to go on the road.”
No response from Jenny.
“Jenny?”
Hugh looked over to the passenger seat and saw Jenny with tissue in hand trying, but failing, to hold back tears.
Chapter Six
“We should call James. Let him know we are on the road again,” Jenny said.
Hugh’s truck was about to hit pavement, coming onto the highway heading south toward Sandpoint after covering the several miles of gravel county roads leading away from the Mann Ranch.
“That’s a good idea. Do you have your phone?” Hugh asked.
Jenny looked on the truck’s dash.
“That’s the last place I remember seeing it. It’s long gone now, gone to who-knows-where after everything we went through the last time we were in the truck together. Don’t you have yours?”
“No. I already know mine is lost. We’re stopping at the cell phone store in Sandpoint in a few minutes, and I’m going to get one. I suppose we should get one for you too.”
“I’m thinking one of the latest models,” he added. “After that stunt your uncle pulled putting a tracking app on your phone, we should get more familiar with how these things work.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Jenny replied.
No main street parking was available in front of the cell phone store for Hugh’s truck even though he was bobtailing it without a trailer. The diagonal parking would have had his tandem rear drives sticking way too far out into traffic.
Also, the width of his truck would have required him to take two spots, and there were no two adjacent spots open.
He drove down the road to the next block and made two right turns to come back the other way and park on a wide shoulder on a secondary street behind the store.
Hugh and Jenny were amazed and confused by the dizzying array of choices available in the way of cell phones and accessories. Hugh solved that problem by telling the salesman all they wanted was the latest smartphone and a couple of cases to protect them.
“Sign us up. Two of everything. Identical.”
Hugh could tell he and Jenny had quickly become the salesman’s favorite customers for the day, maybe even for the week. The salesman made a show of bringing out two phones of the latest model with all the bells and whistles.
In the manner of cell phone salesmen everywhere, their guy, Steven, tap-tapped efficiently on the screens of both phones to start the setup and registration process.
“I can transfer your old contacts, messages, photos and emails now,” he said to Hugh and Jenny.
Hugh looked at Jenny. Jenny looked back at Hugh. Both shrugged their shoulders.
“No need, I guess. We don’t have our old phones. We’ll have to start from scratch.”
“Maybe you have it all on the cloud.”
Still more vacant looks from Hugh and Jenny.
“What’s a cloud?” Hugh asked.
“Ah, OK. No problem. We’ll start from scratch.”
He gave them almost identical phone numbers, off by only the last digit, which was one number higher for Hugh’s phone.
“That’s cute,” Jenny said. She hugged Hugh’s arm, and smiled up at him.
“One last thing,” Hugh said. “Can you put that tracking app on each of our phones, but hide the icon so nobody can tell it is there?”
“Good idea, honey,” Jenny said.
Back on the road, they left town and were finally on their way to Spokane via State Highway 95 south. They would hook up with Interstate 90/Highway 395 after a while, and take it west all the way into the city.
Hugh was feeling extraordinary pleasure at the sensation of finally being behind the wheel of a semi-truck again. The rumble of the diesel engine, the vibration of all the truck’s moving parts he could feel in his seat, and the physical feedback he could pick up from the tires r
unning over pavement reminded him of how happy he was to be on the road again.
Shifting the Eaton-Fuller 10-speed, long-ingrained into his muscle memory from his fifteen years of driving, came back to him without a second’s thought.
“This feels so good. So right,” Hugh said to Jenny. “I’m glad I was able to talk you into coming with me.”
Hugh said that last part with a straight face.
“Yeah. Well, I know how hard you tried. I couldn’t resist,” Jenny replied, playing along with the joke.
“Seriously, Hugh, this feels so right. You and me together, in this truck. I can’t wait to see what’s waiting for us down the road.”
Hugh had to laugh at that.
“Don’t hope too hard for something to happen, sweetie. You know the kind of trouble we can get into.”
“We need to call the ranch and give them our new phone numbers,” Hugh said, handing his phone to Jenny to call the ranch’s land line number for him.
“That reminds me. The next time we are at a travel center we should buy a couple of Bluetooth headsets. I’d like to buy a dashcam as well,” he said. The carrier Hugh was contracted with recommended dashcams, but hadn’t yet made them a requirement. Given the circumstances of the last few trips he had made in his truck, Hugh thought it would be a wise move.
On Hugh’s phone, Jenny tapped the icon labeled “Mom and Dad” the salesman had put on the home screen of both their phones. They also had icons for each other’s phone numbers.
Jenny put the phone to her ear.
“Put it on speaker,” Hugh said.
Jenny tapped the little icon that looked like a speaker and held the phone up for both of them to hear and speak.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Mom. It’s me and Jenny,” Hugh spoke loudly into the phone.
“I was wondering who was calling. I almost didn’t pick up because I didn’t recognize the number.”
“That number on your caller ID is the number to my new phone, and Jenny’s is the same, only instead of a six at the end, hers is a five.”
“Thanks, I’ll let the others know too.”
“OK, Mom, I wanted to let you know everything is good. We’re on 95 headed south out of Sandpoint ... Wait a minute.”
“What, honey?” Hugh asked Jenny. She was mouthing for Hugh to ask his mom for James’ phone number.
To his mom, he said, “Can you get me James’ phone number? The salesman couldn’t put it in for me because I couldn’t remember it.”
“Sure, no problem, hold on.” A few moments later she read out James’ phone number.
“Hi, Jenny. How are you doing?” Martha said.
“Hi, Mom.” She grinned at Hugh. “We’re doing good. Glad to be on the road again.”
“OK. I’ll let you two go. Keep in touch.”
“Will do. Bye.”
Chapter Seven
Bill Fishburn, Attorney at Law, was a sole practitioner whose prestigious law office was located in the upscale city of Scottsdale, Arizona, situated within the greater metropolitan area of Phoenix.
By day, he was a legitimate attorney, employing several paralegals and a secretary/receptionist. His practice consisted of handling clients’ needs for legal representation in the areas of contract disputes, employment and labor, and personal injury claims.
His reputation among his peers was flawless, and the law office had a long waiting list of clients needing his services.
By night, however, his specialty was running a scam finding clients who hadn’t been in an accident yet, and who hadn’t required legal representation, but who, with the attorney’s help and a little cash on the side as incentive, were willing to place themselves in situations resulting in big payouts for the attorney.
Specifically, this attorney was the prime mover behind a fake-crash insurance scam operation targeting trucking companies.
It started when Fishburn began to notice the nuclear verdicts that were being handed down against commercial carriers by juries who harbored biases against truck drivers and their mega carriers. He decided he wanted to bite off a chunk of that lucrative apple.
Employees in his law office were aware, of course, that their boss handled an inordinate amount of truck-crash litigation. But Fishburn was sure none of them suspected the truck crashes that provided for his lucrative business were instigated by the attorney himself.
With nearly twenty fake-crash insurance claims and lawsuits to his “credit” over the past couple of years, Fishburn had reaped the reward for this side hustle. He enjoyed his three-million-dollar home in an up-scale part of town, his several luxury cars and the lavish lifestyle the fruits of this scam had provided.
But he had yet to hit the big payout, one like those in the eighty-million to two-hundred-fifty-million-dollar range he had been seeing in the news lately.
“Listen, Joe,” Fishburn said, “You need to get a crew together and plan something bigger than what we’ve been doing lately.”
Fishburn and Joe Montoya were meeting at the coffee shop in Old Town Scottsdale that was their usual after-hours place to discuss and plan their scam operations.
Joe was the ring leader of Fishburn’s insurance scam gang, but he had never been to Fishburn’s law office or to his home. The attorney was careful to remain as hands-off as possible – taking great pains to do so.
Joe did not travel in the usual circles the attorney did, way below him in social status in fact – something Fishburn kept in mind in arranging these private meetings.
The attorney paid the ring leader in cash based on a percentage of the payout from each fake crash. Some “accidents” were more lucrative than others. Quick insurance settlements paid the least, but there were more of them. Extended lawsuits, especially those with juries sympathetic to the truck crash passenger car victims, were the cash cows. Much more lucrative, but fewer in number.
Fishburn rewarded Joe with enough of the payout to keep him happily working for him. Joe, in turn, was responsible for finding, managing and paying those on the lowest level of the scam – the “victims” who did the dangerous work of getting themselves into accidents with the big-rig trucks.
The trick was to stage the accident realistically enough to cause minor injuries to encourage a settlement or to win a lawsuit, but without causing major injuries or a fatality.
When the injuries weren’t serious enough, the attorney had several agreeable doctors “on staff” he could count on, with the right monetary incentive, to give him the kind of medical reports and expert-witness testimony he needed.
“What do you have in mind?” Joe asked.
Fishburn leaned in closer so he could keep his voice down.
“I’m thinking, Joe, we need to step up our game a bit. Pick one of the mega carriers, and get your people involved in a serious crash with one of their big rigs.”
“We’ve been doing that all along,”
“No, I mean a really serious crash. It’s got to be big, a lot of injury, or worse, something that will have the trucker’s insurance carrier begging us to take their large settlement to avoid publicity. Or something that will make jury members cry, and want to hand us a mega-million award.”
“Or worse? Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That’s brand new territory for us. We’re careful not to go that far.”
“It’s time to not be so careful. Something to think about is the biggest payouts have involved moms and kids.”
Joe looked at the attorney, but didn’t speak.
“Arrange it,” Fishburn said. “Moms and kids.”
The attorney placed payment for their coffees and a tip on the table and stood up. He had a rule. Always pay cash, and never stiff a waitress. He knew their jobs were unbearably difficult.
Leaning over, he spoke quietly enough into Joe’s ear to prevent anybody else from hearing. “I want a nuclear verdict this time. Moms and kids, or we are through.”
Joe remained sitting after the attorney had left. He thought ab
out the implications of what the attorney had suggested, and didn’t care for the idea. However, he also thought about the significantly higher payment an operation like this would mean for him.
Joe was thinking maybe if he did this one big job the way the attorney was demanding he could be done with this fake-crash business forever.
He had a difficult time getting his head around the problem of who to pick to be the crash victims, and how to persuade them to go as far with it as the attorney was suggesting.
Moms and kids? That was going to be a tough one to pull off.
Joe stood up and pocketed the cash the attorney had left on the table to pay for their coffees and tip. He had a rule. Never leave cash lying around on a table.
He walked out of the diner to begin thinking about the crash team he had to put together, and the strategy he would use.
Chapter Eight
Nearly the same time as Joe was strategizing what he hoped was his last fake crash, Hugh was pulling into the Spokane precision parts manufacturing plant to pick up the load due for Phoenix.
He spotted the shipping office, parked his truck nearby, and told Jenny to wait while he went to the office to find his assigned trailer and pick up his bill of lading.
When he returned to the truck he cranked up the big diesel and searched down the line of trailers until he found the one assigned to him.
After backing in and hooking up, he stopped to look at the shipping papers.
“Looks like we deliver at sixteen hundred in Phoenix – actually Mesa – three days from now.”
“What are we hauling?”
“The BOL says we have precision parts for the Boeing manufacturing plant in Mesa.”
The shipping papers agreed with the information he had previously been given with the pre-load info that had come over his Qualcomm from dispatch.
Road Test Page 4