by Gail Sattler
“Lingo? That was another language.”
“He just meant that John’s busy hooking up Dave’s load and we have to adjust the axle weights ourselves if we want to get going sooner.” Chad turned to him. “Lionel, you want to help slide the bogeys?”
“Sure.”
Chad headed for his truck while Lionel led Gwen to a trailer in the rear of the complex.
“Why do I have a feeling the bogeys we’re talking about have nothing to do with Humphrey Bogart?”
He couldn’t help but smile. He was glad she wasn’t going to let Burt bother her. He said nothing.
“I’m really a teacher, you know. But if I’m going to do this for the summer, I want to do it right.”
“We’re going to adjust the axle weights by sliding the trailer wheels.”
They waited while Chad backed up his rig to hook up to the trailer.
“Now that he’s under, we have to crank up the dolly legs.”
He was about to grab the dolly handle, but Gwen beat him to it and began cranking. “I’ll do it. It’s not much different from our camper.”
He had to give her credit. It wasn’t easy, but unlike any other woman he had seen, she was actually working instead of watching.
Once the landing supports were fastened up under the trailer, he led Gwen to the rear and pointed to the track. “The back axle slides along the frame rails. You set the back brakes, pull the pins, and, in this case, Chad will pull the trailer forward while the bogeys,” he patted the back tire, “stay in place, which puts the wheels closer to the back of the trailer to shift the weight distribution. Each hole shifts the weight about three hundred pounds. Then we put the pins back in, release the brakes, and send it over the scale. Hopefully we got it right and won’t have to do it again.”
She ducked her head underneath and looked at the frame rails. “So that’s sliding the bogeys.”
Lionel nodded. Chad stuck his head out the window. Lionel pulled out the pins, waved his hand in a forward motion, and held four fingers in the air with the other hand. “Ahead four holes!” he yelled.
“This is called a long box,” Gwen said.
He nodded.
“It’s fifty-three feet long.”
He nodded again.
“It’s got a reefer, but we won’t know until we get the paperwork if we have to keep it running, right?”
Lionel shook his head. They were such elementary comments, but it meant she was trying to understand. “This is also an insulated trailer, but this one is equipped with what we call a heater, only meant to keep a load from freezing in the winter. Since it’s summer you don’t have to worry about stuff freezing.”
“Oh.”
The trailer groaned, heaved, then finally slid smoothly ahead four holes. Chad hopped out of the truck. Lionel replaced the pins, locked them, and Chad checked everything. “Gwen, you take the set over the scale, and I’ll go get the paperwork.”
“Okay.”
There was no need for him to stay there, so Lionel accompanied Chad to the office while Gwen climbed into the cab.
They hadn’t gone far when the engine roared, a big puff of black smoke poured out, the truck lurched, then went silent. The engine chugged to a start again, and this time it moved forward toward the scale, slowly, if not quite smoothly.
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing with someone right out of driving school? Have you heard what the guys have been saying about you getting your niece to drive?”
“I don’t care what the guys are saying, as long as they don’t say it where Gwen can hear. She may be inexperienced, but Gwen is my niece and she’s capable of whatever she puts her mind to. We all made our mistakes when we started.”
While Chad went into the office, Lionel waited outside, watching Gwen scale the load more slowly than anyone he had ever seen. He clenched his jaw. Yes, he’d made mistakes, but he had the support of all the other drivers. All Gwen would have was Chad.
Chad stepped outside and waved, the trip envelope in his hand. “Hey, Lionel. You’re ready to go now too. Coming with me?”
He watched her pull the load onto the street and park it. She didn’t know the difference between gas and diesel, but the woman had at least managed to scale the load without running into the shed. “Yeah. I think I will.”
Once they were out of the city, Gwen picked up the handset for the CB radio and reached down to turn it on while Uncle Chad drove. “What’s our handle?”
“CJ. For Chad and Jeff. But you can think of your own. Lionel’s handle is Lion King.”
“I wasn’t thinking of calling him in particular. But I guess he’s better than no one.”
Uncle Chad laughed. “I’m sure Lionel would be pleased to hear that.”
Gwen giggled, grateful for the chance to relieve some stress. She’d anticipated a few snide remarks, but she hadn’t expected to be laughed at. No one knew she’d heard, but she’d picked up on a few of the things being said about her behind her back, especially after she stalled the truck on the way to the scale. She knew she would have to work extra hard to earn any degree of respect in this predominantly male profession. Still, she thought the drivers where Uncle Chad worked would have behaved better, if for no other reason than company loyalty to one of their own.
Apparently not.
At least Lionel had helped her, although he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.
“Lionel is a Christian, you know.”
“It must be nice to have someone you can relate to on the road. Some of the drivers are pretty rough around the edges, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are. And Lionel’s single too. He’s your age, and not bad-looking, I mean, as far as young men go.”
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t deny anything her uncle said about Lionel, especially the good-looking part. He wore his dark blond hair in a lazy, barely-combed-back style, looking like it would fall into his eyes at any moment, yet it never did. His hairstyle served to bring attention to the dark green of his eyes, which were particularly mesmerizing. His eyes added to the mystique of his lovely smile, a feature he didn’t appear to display very often. His nose had a small bump, indicating it had been broken at one time. The combination gave him an almost standoffish appearance, which probably suited the solitary life of a trucker.
“Don’t start on me, Uncle Chad. I know Garrett and Robbie and now Molly and Ken are happily married, but I’m perfectly satisfied with my life the way it is. I’m not on the lookout for a husband. If God places Mr. Right in my path, fine. If not, that’s fine too.”
“He’s a good Christian man. Well grounded in his faith, and he lives a Godly life.”
Gwen sighed and bent to check out the buttons and dials on the main unit of the CB radio. “He’s a truck driver.”
“I’ve been a truck driver all my life. It’s an honest living, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
She rested the handset in her lap. “For you, no. But I couldn’t live like that. You’re away so often for such long stretches. Then, when Aunt Chelsea is used to you being gone all the time, all of a sudden you’re home again, sometimes without leaving the house for days. You’re either totally absent or underfoot. That would drive me nuts. I don’t know how you two do it.”
“You’re right, Gwen. It’s not an easy lifestyle.”
“I know how hard it was for Jenny and Sarah. So many times you weren’t there for their school concerts or their youth group functions. I know you tried your best to be around for the really important stuff, but I know many times they were disappointed when you couldn’t be there.”
Sadness filled her uncle’s eyes. “I know,” he said quietly. “Being a truck driver is all I’ve ever done, and I’ll do it until I retire. Your aunt Chelsea is a remarkable woman. The divorce rate is very high among truck drivers. God has held us together throughout the course of our marriage. But, thanks to laptop computers and E-mail, staying in touch with family and friends has been easier over the last fe
w years. Most of the truck stops have E-mail access these days. Also, with cell phones, if either of us gets lonely or an emergency happens, instead of having to track us down wherever we are in the continent and leave a message we won’t get for hours or even days, now we’re just a phone call away. It’s better than it used to be.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Chad. I need more of a regular lifestyle than that. I could never marry a truck driver.”
“You don’t have to marry Lionel to be nice to him.”
“I was nice to him. I just don’t want to start anything. Okay?”
“Okay. Now go ahead and call him. I know you’re dying to play with that CB.”
She grinned as she turned on the main switch. The radio crackled for a couple of seconds while she adjusted the channel. “I don’t know what to call myself. Mind if I just use your handle?”
“Oh, sure.”
“CJ calling Lion King. You got your ears on, good buddy? Do you copy? Over.”
“Lion King. Over.”
“Uh, Gwen,” Uncle Chad said softly before she could think of something worthwhile to say to Lionel. “Truck drivers don’t really talk like that on the CB. Especially if it’s just the two of us on at the moment. Just talk normal.”
Gwen gritted her teeth. Something else she had done wrong. “Oops.” She pressed the button to talk to Lionel. “I just wanted to test the CB. How far is the range on this thing? Over.”
“About five miles. Over.”
“Really? That’s not a lot. I don’t know what to say. Is it true that you talk back and forth on this thing for hours and hours while you’re driving?”
She waited, but there was only silence.
“Gwen,” Uncle Chad mumbled, “you’re supposed to say ‘over.’ ”
“Oops.” She pushed the button again. “Over.”
She heard him laughing over the radio. “It took me awhile to get used to that, but now it’s second nature.”
Gwen exchanged smiles with Uncle Chad but remained silent since he hadn’t said “over.”
Lionel’s voice again came over the radio. “And yes, truckers really do talk on these things for hours. It helps fight the boredom through some of the long stretches. Sometimes, when we’ve been driving too long in the middle of the night, the chatter helps keep us awake. You can ask Chad about that some time. Over.”
She continued to chat with Lionel, every once in awhile giving the handset to her uncle. When all topics were exhausted, they turned the radio off.
“The laptop is behind me under the bunk. How would you like to type up an E-mail to your aunt Chelsea, or maybe Garrett? We’re going to stop in about half an hour and have dinner, and the truck stop has E-mail access.”
“Really? You mean I can type while we’re driving?”
“If the battery is low, I’ve got a converter to plug it into the cigarette lighter.”
“I had no idea driving a truck was so much fun!”
Uncle Chad smiled thinly but didn’t comment.
She started to type but had difficulty concentrating. Her mind kept drifting back to Lionel. Chatting with him back and forth on the CB was just like talking on the phone with an old friend she hadn’t seen for years. Although, she suspected she would be saying the word “over” in her dreams tonight. She couldn’t remember much of what they said, but he had a wonderful sense of humor. At the same time, she sensed a closely guarded heart, which was no surprise. The lifestyle of a truck driver was very much the life of a loner, and he was a trucker by choice.
Being a teacher, Gwen was usually in the middle of a crowd of people, either in her high school classroom all day long or in adult church activities on evenings and weekends. She loved being busy. Even though she couldn’t relate to someone who chose to stay solitary most of the time, she could respect his choice. Uncle Chad had been a trucker all his life, and he fit into both ends of the social spectrum. When he was in town, he was active in his church and with his family.
By the time they arrived at the truck stop, she had managed to compose two E-mail messages. She sent them off and they joined Lionel in the restaurant. Gwen had never been so hungry in her life, although she couldn’t figure out why, since they’d been sitting most of the time. She chalked it up to the excitement of her first truck driving job and, after they paused for a word of thanks over their supper, she ate gustily.
“I’ve never seen a woman eat like you.”
Gwen paused mid-chew to see Lionel watching her. She gulped down her mouthful and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I’m really lucky, I’ve never had to watch my weight. Guess it’s because I’m so tall and have a high metabolism.”
Uncle Chad nodded. “This is nothing. You should see her twin brother.”
Lionel’s eyebrows raised.
“Uncle Chad!”
“Never mind. We don’t have time to sit and drink coffee. We’ve got to make Bismarck by Monday morning. Because this is your first trip, we’ll be making more stops than usual. Make a quick visit into the washroom. This is the last time we’re stopping for a long time.”
Gwen tossed the money for her portion of the meal on the table and stood. She had been warned. This was the life of a trucker, and she had committed herself to it for the summer. “I’ll be right back.”
Uncle Chad was waiting for her in the truck.
“You’ve got to pay close attention to the way you shift in the mountains,” he said. “We’ll be arriving in St. Regis at about three A.M. I’ll explain as we go.”
“You mean we’re driving through the mountains at night? We’re not stopping somewhere to sleep?”
“In tourist season we want to avoid driving in the mountains during the daytime.”
“You didn’t tell me that before.”
“I didn’t? I’m sure I did. People tend to drive crazy around trucks. Even if we’re driving faster, they still feel they have to pass us. Campers are especially bad, because often people aren’t used to pulling the weight, and they don’t leave themselves enough time to pass. I’ve been in countless close calls. The best solution is to drive as much as possible at night during tourist season.”
There were so many things he’d told her in the past about the business of truck driving, but Gwen was positive this hadn’t been one of them. If so, she might have changed her mind.
“Is Lionel going to be with us too?”
“Yup.”
“Are you two going to yap on the CB?”
“Nope. Need both hands. There’s a lot of shifting. You watch and learn. Didn’t they take you through the mountains in driving school?”
“They did. We went up to Squamish, and I learned how to use the Jake brake, but that’s nothing like going through these mountains.”
“Nope. Got a few tricky corners, and in the daytime, lots of traffic.”
Gwen cringed. She sat in silence as he drove, listening to her uncle explain why he shifted and changed speeds when he did. Every once in awhile she glanced behind them in the rearview mirror to see Lionel’s rig following behind.
“We’re making good time. But I’m almost out of hours. We’re going to stop in St. Regis and sleep.”
Gwen looked behind her at the bunks. She had been inside Uncle Chad’s truck before, but it was another matter to live in it for two months with only the occasional stop at home. She wondered who got the top bunk and what she would do about the bathroom in the morning.
“For your first trip, Lionel and I will sleep in the trucks, and you can stay in motels. You need a good night’s sleep, because you’re driving in the morning.”
Chapter 2
The waitress refilled their coffee mugs and dropped a handful of cream packets onto the table. Lionel added two of them to his coffee and talked to Gwen as he stirred. “You ready for this?”
She nodded and sipped her coffee without saying a word, which somehow didn’t surprise him. After they parked their rigs at the truck stop following her first trip through the mountains at night, he
noted that, although she was tired, she wasn’t rattled. The three of them had enjoyed a pleasant chat as he and Chad walked her to the motel. He had teased her about getting a good night’s sleep before her first long driving day. Instead of being nervous, she told him how much she anticipated driving the next morning.
Now it was the next morning and they were almost ready to go.
She took another sip of her coffee, leaving the cup at her lips as she spoke. “So now we get fu-el,” she enunciated slowly, glancing back and forth between himself and Chad with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “Just exactly how much fuel does a truck hold?”
Chad had just taken a large bite of his cinnamon bun, so Lionel answered. “Two hundred and twenty gallons. We get fu-el,” he drawled out, “once a day.”
“See. I’m learning. By the end of the summer everyone will think I’m a seasoned driver.”
Lionel chose to reserve judgment. Just because she knew the difference between gas and diesel, that didn’t make her an experienced driver, or even a good one. So far, the only actual driving he’d seen was when she pulled over the scale, and she’d stalled the engine. Today he planned to see for himself what she was like on the road.
“Uncle Chad said that we wouldn’t usually stop so often, but for my first trip they’ve allowed us extra time, the same as a single driver. I feel bad to be slowing things down.”
Lionel smiled and continued to talk as Chad ate in silence. “They always make allowances for a first trip. Just one word of advice. Keep careful records in your logbook. Government regulations are very strict. When you’re trying to make miles, every quarter hour counts. Don’t forget to count fueling or when you have to take a … uh, stop to visit the ladies’ room or pick up a snack as driving time. If you take a quarter hour off driving time, log it as such. The minutes add up. When you’re out of driving hours, that’s it. You have to stop. A lot of companies do random checks to compare your tach card with your log entry, not only to make sure you weren’t speeding, but to compare when you were stopped with what your logbook says.”
“Thanks for the advice.” She stopped to grin, and all Lionel could do was stare. He didn’t have much experience with women, especially considering the lifestyle of a long-haul trucker, but Gwen was not what he expected. Gwen wore simple and comfortably worn clothes. Her dark shoulder-length hair was combed neatly, but she hadn’t fussed with it. Nor did she wear any makeup. If she had tried to flirt or act provocative, it would have had an opposite effect. Her relaxed nature impressed him more than anything.