Jake called the dispatcher and was given the assignment to pick up a load of potatoes from southern Colorado. He was instructed to head south ASAP and be ready to load first thing in the morning. He’d been sleeping for most of the day, so he headed out and drove much of the night to the farm several hundred miles due south of Denver.
“Anybody in there?” the foreman said as he knocked gently on the cab door.
“Yeah, I’m here. Give me a minute,” Jake said, looked at his watch. He’d been asleep for about an hour. He rolled out of the bed in the sleeper behind the driver’s seat and got back in the saddle.
“Sorry to wake you so early, but the shift starts at seven. Follow me,” the foreman said and got into his pickup and drove about five miles to the sheds where the potatoes were stored in large canvas sacks stacked on pallets.
Jake backed the semi up to the storage shed and opened the doors on the trailer.
“This isn’t a refer trailer,” the foreman said. “These potatoes have to be shipped in a refrigerated trailer.”
“I don’t know anything about that. My dispatcher just told me to get here quick and get a load of potatoes,” Jake said.
“Ok, you’re the boss,” the foreman said and directed a forklift driver to start loading the pallets into the trailer.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boss,” the foreman said pointing to the camera that Jake had focused on the potato loading operation.
“Why’s that?” Jake said.
“Most of these boys are from Mexico and probably wouldn’t want their picture taken,” the foreman said. “Nothing personal.”
“Right,” Jake said and pocketed his camera and watched as the “illegals” loaded the fifty-three foot trailer and was about to close the doors and saw the foreman waving to him from the small office by the sheds.
“I got some bad news for you, boss. We got to unload the potatoes.”
“What’s up? You just got them loaded.”
“The buyer won’t accept the potatoes unless they’re in a refer trailer. We talked to your dispatcher. He’ll call you.”
Another day wasted on sitting around. When he’d applied for the job, he didn’t realize that a truck driver is only paid for the time he is actually on the road, driving. Loading and unloading and waiting for a load is not driving, your wheels are not turning, all non-paid time.
Just can’t seem to get away from The Man.
Even sleeping in the cab is not paid time even though you are captive and can’t leave the truck unattended. He’d spent nearly twelve hours in Ft. Collins waiting to have the beer kegs unloaded. He’d spent hours waiting to get the potatoes loaded, and now he’d have to wait again for them to be off loaded and wait yet again for another assignment. When the call finally came from the dispatcher, he’d been sitting, watching potatoes grow in Southern Colorado for nearly six hours in an empty truck. At least the scenery was nice; beyond the miles of green potato fields were immense Colorado mountains.
“Head back to Denver to the Pepsi plant and pick up a load to take to the distribution facility in Spokane,” the dispatcher said and gave him directions and the address.
Jake retraced his route south to Alamosa and drove the seventy miles east and connected with US-25, the north-south freeway through the middle of Colorado, and headed north for the two and a half hour drive back to Denver. When he arrived, the plant was closed and he pulled his rig into the parking lot of a tavern nearby where he shut it down.
The section of town was pretty seedy, so, besides locking the doors, he tied rubber ropes between the doors to delay anyone who might try to break in. The rubber ropes were used to tie down the tarps over some loads and they were all he had to secure the doors. Any intruder trying to open the door would be surprised by the spring action of the rope as the door would come slamming closed. As an added security measure, he made sure his 22-cal. revolver was within reach and then hopped into the sleeping compartment and slept till morning.
“Hello, Annmarie?” Jake said. “Can you talk?”
“Jake, where are you?” She asked.
“I’m in Denver but I’ll be coming through Missoula sometime tomorrow on my way to Spokane with a load of Pepsi. Is there any chance I could see you?”
“Of course I can see you. You-know-who is out in the wild, counting crows or bears or something. He’ll be gone for two months. Call me when you know exactly when you’ll be in town,” she said. “I’m so excited. I haven’t seen you in such a horribly long time.”
He had been transferred out of Montana a year after arriving but he kept in constant contact with Annmarie. He often drove the mountain pass from the Big Richards in Idaho to see her. He took his tent once and camped at the local campground so he could be near her for the weekend and damn near froze to death. It got down into the teens and he stuffed his pillows and extra jacket into the sleeping bag to keep warm.
“I sure could have used your warm butt to keep from freezing,” he told her the next day when they had breakfast. She hadn’t been able to spend the night because of her special circumstances; she was expecting a call and had to be home.
“I’m so sorry honey, I wish I could have kept you warm all night instead of for just a few hours. But that was sure nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, that was sure nice. My favorite way to camp.”
On many occasions she traveled the same hundred plus miles over Lolo pass to visit him in the small town that stood on the banks of the confluence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers Western Idaho.
Jake and Annmarie had spent the sweltering day along the Snake River at a city park on the Washington side of the river. After a picnic, they decided to take a swim. They weren’t paying close attention, standing chest deep in the river, groping each other beneath the surface, when a water skier had to do some fancy maneuvering; he could have seriously injured one or both of them.
“Maybe we should find a safer place to play with each other,” Jake had said at the time. “That would have been hard to explain if one of us ended up in the hospital, especially if they pulled me from the drink with my trunks around my knees.”
In the afternoon, they rode their bikes single file on the narrow gravel path beside the Snake River until Annmarie stopped and hollered for Jake to stop.
He turned and pedaled back to where she was examining the tire looking for what caused the flat.
“It’s one of those darn thorns,” she said wiggling the sharp three-pronged thorn from the punctured the tire. “Now what should we do?”
“Well, we could walk the bikes back. It’s about ten miles. That would take several hours and it would be dark by the time we got back, or, I could ride back and get my car and come back and pick you and the bike up. That would be a lot quicker if you are alright staying here alone.”
“I think it is pretty safe. There are lots of bike riders along the trail. I’m sure I’ll be alright,” she said. “Hurry back.” She kissed him and he got on his ten-speed and sprinted the ten miles or so to his apartment and put his bike inside. She was sitting alongside the river when he returned.
“That didn’t take long,” she said when he pulled up beside her. “Several people stopped and asked if I needed help.”
“I really tried to hurry,” he said, pulled her to her feet and loaded the bike onto the bike rack, got in and drove back to the apartment.
“Let’s make a picnic snack. I have something to show you,” Jake said.
Annmarie sliced some ham, cut squares of cheese, and he got a package of crackers and a bottle of Merlot from the cupboard put them into a small Styrofoam cooler. He grabbed his full-size sleeping bag from the bedroom closet and they loaded up the VW for the drive. He headed north out of town turning onto the winding hillside road. When he was halfway up the five-mile grade, he pulled off on the shoulder and stopped.
“Grab the cooler and I’ll get the sleeping bag. This way.” He took Annmarie’s hand and they walked hand-in-hand about a hundred yar
ds down the rocky hillside and into a field where he tossed open the sleeping bag. They set out the cheese, crackers, ham, and settled onto the sleeping bag to watch the evening come. They snacked on the treats as they watched the sunset and the lights of the town as they began to glow in the distance. The tall grass on their hillside retreat above the town swayed in the soft breeze blowing off the river below.
They could see the headlights of cars as they occasionally passed in the distance above them on the winding road.
“This is beautiful. How did you discover it? It is nice and secluded,” she said and gave his thigh a squeeze.”
“I guess it is sort of a thing with me. I have always liked to drive around and explore where I am in the world. Sometimes I come across something I’d like to share and keep it in mind. I’ve done it since I got a license when was in high school. It’s what got me into trouble, actually. It’s how I ended up on a logging road in my Chevy by the dam with Janis. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about her.”
“Well, Jake, this is certainly romantic,” she said and watched as he opened the Merlot. “Thank you for bringing me here.” She took the wine glasses from the cooler.
“Hold them out for me, sweetie?” He filled the wine glasses and replaced the cork and set the bottle back in the cooler.
“Here’s to us, Honey,” she said and sipped their wine.
“Come closer,” Jake said and she scooted closer and they watched the steam and smoke rise from the stacks of the lumber mills along the river.
They sat silently as the stars began to appear in the clear sky. When the full moon appeared over the top of the mountain, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and she turned toward him and raised her lips to meet his.
“I will always think of you when I see the full moon,” he said.
“I love you, Jake.”
“I love you too.”
He nudged her and she lay back and he began to unbuttoned her top. She pulled his head down and she kissed him again.
Except for the sound of the cars passing occasionally on the winding road above, the night was still. He could see Annmarie’s white skin in the moonlight and he removed her bra and kissed her breasts. They were both soon naked on the open sleeping bag. The night was warm and they lay looking up at the moon and stars. She rolled him to his back and got astride.
“This is so beautiful,” she said and sank with a gasp. “That feels so wonderful. Oh, honey, I love you. I want this night to last forever.”
She rocked in the moonlight and they listened to the sound of the whistles of the lumber mill on the far side of the Clearwater River and the semi-trucks shifting down as they ground their way up the long hill in the distance. When they reached the apex of the hill, their engines gave a gasp and shifted to a higher gear.
Annmarie reached her peak and he listened as she caught her breath, and shifted herself into an easier, more relaxed gear.
“I will remember this forever,” Annmarie said, leaning forward and stretching full out on the length of him.
“I’ll remember this too,” he said and held her tight and rolled her over. They managed an awkward sip of wine and he kissed her sticky lips and put himself in low and began a drive through his gears to the top of her hill.
He reached the top of his climb and the whistle blew at the distant lumber mill across the river.
“I love you, Jake.”
They had even made several trips the year he was in Idaho, one to Lake Tahoe, and another to Reno for a week each time. The people who knew of his liaisons with her predicted it wouldn’t last. They had all been wrong. After he’d been transferred from Idaho, they still met, not as often, but, at least once a year and sometimes more over the years. She never divorced but was, never the less, ecstatic to see him each time they met.
He had several relationships and finally got married again fifteen years after getting free of the lunatic when he was twenty. His soon to be wife threatened to move out if he didn’t. They married in the Touch of Love Chapel in South Lake Tahoe. It lasted several years but ended when he found his second wife was not as faithful as she seemed. Toward the end, he had decided that since she set the standard, it would be all right for him to see Annmarie every so often. The last time he’d visited Tahoe, he saw that the Touch of Love had been closed and reopened as a PayLess shoe store.
It may have been the long hours and working most all the weekends that did in the second marriage. There was no violence, no knives, or guns, just mutual verbal abuse that accompanies many failed marriages. At any rate, it ended shortly after he’d been transferred to a Big Richards in Northern California.
One more transfer to Southern California ended when he was fired. He blamed the worker’s conspiracy. He could never get complete control over the employees who were stealing and the customers doing the same. Waste was unacceptably high in that last store; that’s all it took and he was out.
“It’s about a twelve hour drive, but I have to stop after eight hours. I can fudge the books a bit and be there by eight or nine tonight.
Fudging on The Man never ended, even as a lowly diesel jockey.
They’re about finished loading the pallets of Pepsi. A couple more and I’ll be on my way.”
“You be careful, Jake. Have a safe trip,” Annmarie said. “I can’t wait to see you.”
She was sitting erect in the exact booth that she had been twenty-one years ago when he met her for coffee at the IHOP the day after they had danced at that country bar, The Cabin. It was still going strong.
“Hello, Jake.” Her voice had the same whisper he remembered from the first night he met her.
“Hi, Honey,” Jake said. “You are looking as gorgeous as ever. Thanks for meeting me.”
“You are looking pretty handsome yourself,” she said.
“How about we get something to eat and then I can show you my new apartment on wheels.”
“That sounds wonderful. How do you like your new job traveling around the country?” she said.
“I like it today.”
They walked across the Big Richards’ parking lot where his rig was parked.
“You can be my lot lizard,” Jake said as he got in and reached down to help her into the cab and they crawled into the sleeping compartment.
“What is a lot lizard?” She wriggled to get comfortable in the crowded space and they lay down next to each other.
“I had a girl hop on the running board while I was laid over in Kingman, Arizona. I was at the truck stop on Andy Devine Boulevard. She was selling her goods. Truckers call ‘em lot lizards. I’d heard about them in truck driving school but that was the first time I’d seen one. I had to think twice about it, she was pretty good looking, and it had been a while. She asked me not to tell the police. I saw her get into a cab on the far side of the lot with a big fat guy who was driving a Swift truck.”
“Almost took her up on it, huh? How very interesting,” she said. “Who’s Andy Devine?”
“He’s a Hollywood cowboy. For some reason, that name sticks in my mind. My dad would kick us kids out of the house to go to the matinée on Saturdays. I found out later when I discovered a bunch of condoms under the mattress of my parent’s bed why he wanted us out of the house. He wasn’t always that nice. I remember Jingles was the name of Wild Bill Hickok’s funny sidekick. Apparently he was from Kingman. It surprised me when I saw a truck stop named after him.”
“Anyway, just for shits and grins, I asked her what she charged. Twenty-five for a blow and fifty for bumpin’ fuzzies. It didn’t take her long in that fat guy’s truck; she was climbing out of his cab after about ten minutes. She was raking in more than I am. Her working conditions aren’t all that great.”
“Okay, Jake, I’ll be your lizard for the night,” she said, looked googley-eyed, flicked her tongue out, and zapped his cheek. Then, nestling herself puppy-close, her sultry lips delighting his ear, she whispered, “And I’ll throw in a couple fuzzy bumps … on me.”
1970 - Present
Jake smiled when he saw the flourish of artistic swirls and recognized Priscilla’s penmanship. He admired the cursive a moment, took out his pocketknife, and slit the envelope open.
“You are invited to the Forest Family Reunion. I really, really want you to try to come this year. I haven’t seen you in such a long time, I love talking to you, even if it has only been through letters. But, I want to see you in the flesh. You have never been to a reunion before and, this time, Jake, I want you to come. Do it for me.”
Priscilla also wrote on two other topics, one about her converting to Mormonism and the second, a lengthy bit about her Mormon boyfriend, David.
Jake had accumulated three weeks of vacation at Big Richards and now had wheels that would make the long trip from Montana to Wisconsin, so he wrote back and told her he hadn’t been across the country since he was on vacation with his family as a kid and that he would be there for sure; just for her.
One of the most memorable highlights for Jake of that family trip was when he got a swat on the ass for something he had no idea he had done until several hours later. He’d sat motionless for those several hours at which time his dad informed him of the reason. He’d kicked his dad’s arm while in a tussle with his sister in the front seat. It didn’t matter that the kick was inadvertent; apparently it still warranted a jarring swat. That was when he was seven and the memory of that little family bonding moment stuck with him for quite some time.
The Trouble Way Page 27