My Grey Summer

That job done, and as the windows were still blocked out, it was time for the toy to make another appearance. I sat on the couch this time and pumped the sheath up and down my cock as if I was jerking off with my hand. It was good, though not as exciting as the night before had been. Using it with my hand still felt like masturbation, last night in the dark I had lost myself in fantasy. Balls now empty, I tried out the shower while there was still some daylight left. It was the most nerve-wracking part of van-life so far. I was basically naked outside in a small floorless tent that I felt at any second would blow open in a breeze and expose my nudity to the world. Dinner from my mini-kitchen followed before I passed the time reading the manual for the truck I would be driving until it was time for bed. Of course, the toy came out again and I took it as I had the previous night. Spent, I dozed off still inside of it. Awaking a short time later in the same position, I started to hump it once more, my erection growing and sliding in the tight confines, slick with lubricant and my own semen from before. There was no audience approval when I contributed a second portion of my seed into the silicone cunt.

I caught the bus to the staging area the next morning no problem and was assigned my truck. I checked it out, consulting the manual often. I was nervous as hell as I started it up. I couldn't believe that they were letting me drive this truck, which weighed 30 tons empty, could haul 50 tons of cargo, and cost several hundred thousand dollars, by myself. Un, as it were, supervised. I checked in on the radio and was dispatched to pick up a load of rail ties to take to the grinder. As the project was behind schedule the grinder was located back here in the first staging area. I put the truck into drive and joined the parade of massive equipment working its way along the narrow right-of-way.

Varying in width from between 50 to 200 feet, the right-of-way of the railroad was a tight fit for the massive equipment that was being used to rehabilitate it at a designed pace of one mile a day. After surveyors marked the boundaries, a fleet of mulchers would move in and grind up the brush and debris that was usually overgrowing everything. Larger trees were left standing as they had value, so the next step was for them to be logged off and hauled away. Then, if any railway track was still in place, the rail was ripped out and hauled off for scrap. The old wood crossties were then pulled up and taken to a grinder where they were bashed into woodchips. The metal spikes and plates from the ties were separated magnetically and scrapped, while the woodchips were sold as fuel to a powerplant that burned biomass. Then a fleet of excavators, bulldozers, and loaders moved in and scooped up what was left of the old railway, removing whatever was needed to transform the old line to the rough grade for the new. This material was all hauled back to a mobile aggregate processing plant that resulted in huge piles of topsoil, sand, gravel, and railway ballast. Ditches were dug, culverts installed, and then material started to go back out to the right-of-way. The sand and gravel was mixed into a base material that was spread out, built up, and compacted to form a stable foundation for the future track. It was graded to the correct angles before an initial layer of railway ballast was spread along the track's eventual alignment. Finally, the topsoil was spread back out over the disturbed ground wherever there wouldn't be any railway track. The actual construction of the track would take place later, by another contractor, but they couldn't do anything without our rebuilt right-of-way.

I thought of all this as I nervously pointed the front of my machine down the narrow path and drove into the woods. The lingering dust from trucks in front of me reduced visibility and I slowed down. Before long, another truck was looming large in my rear-view mirrors, so I sped up. My first real test came as I reached a wide area where the trucks were turning to back into the work areas empty, allowing them to drive out forward when loaded. I managed to keep more or less in line as I backed up for over a mile, but no doubt was making a complete ass of the job in the eyes of the veteran operators.

After what seemed a tremendously long time, I came to the spot where the excavators were digging out the ballast and rock. Trucks were pulling over to load, but I needed to get past. I wasn't sure what to do until I saw another truck sneak past the others. I just followed and hoped I wasn't screwing up. The going became much rougher and the truck rocked, and shook, making it difficult to use the mirrors. The rear-view camera was incredibly useful, but only gave a limited view of what was ahead, well, behind. My destination came into view and I pulled aside and waited my turn to be loaded. I sat, and sat, and sat. I didn't know what the holdup was, but I was beginning to understand why the project was already behind schedule less than two weeks in. My turn came to be loaded and I was distracted by the odd sensation of tons of material being dropped into the truck. Eventually, I realized that I had missed the signal from the loader telling me I was full. Now its operator was waving at me frantically to move out of the way.

Feeling a fool, I drove off cautiously, getting the feel of the weight now in the truck. I called on the radio that I was inbound to the grinder, and made my way towards the staging yard. It was much easier driving forward the entire trip. Once at the wood grinder, I dumped the load where I was told. Other machines moved in and started feeding the old ties into the hammer mill immediately. They had no stockpile to work off of. I looked at my watch, it had taken an hour and forty-five minutes to make the round trip. Even though it felt an eternity, it was too slow. I felt bad for my cousin's father-in-law. I had a feeling he was going to be losing a lot of money on this job.

I was dispatched to haul more ties for the remainder of the day, that is until just before quitting time when I was sent for a load of base material to haul back out to the right-of-way. I hadn't yet been to the aggregate processing plant, so I just followed the line of trucks in and waited. When I neared the crushing and screening equipment, the radio came to life with a woman's voice.

"ELM-608 (my truck number), Agg-Plant. Why are you empty? What are you doing here? Over."

"Agg-Plant, ELM-608. I was sent for a load of material for the road base. Over."

"ELM-608, Agg-Plant. You're in the wrong place. You need to be the other side of the stockpiles, should have used the next turn off. But, as you're stuck in that line for a while now, call in for another assignment. Agg-Plant Out."

I sat in my cab embarrassed, stuck in the line of trucks, hemmed in by equipment on one side and piles of aggregate on the other. I had to wait it out and just go with the flow. As my truck slowly crept past the operating cab of the equipment, a woman emerged and looked at my truck. She just shook her head and smiled in disbelief before going about other business. Wow, what a smile, I couldn't stop looking at her. Then it hit me, she was a little person. I couldn't believe it. Don't get me wrong, I consider myself pretty progressively minded, but I just couldn't understand how she could operate this huge piece of equipment. Oh sure, the controls in the cab wouldn't be a problem, but here she was, lugging a grease gun and a wrench that was probably 2/3rds her size up a catwalk of a conveyor belt. I was transfixed watching her as I waited for the trucks in front of me to move on. It was rude of me, and I chastised myself for my behavior, and then kept on watching her anyway. Eventually I was clear of the agg-plant and was told to go park my truck, thus ending my first day on the job.

That evening as I sat in my porch listening to the river flow behind my camp site, I spotted her walking along the path that followed the river. I don't know why, because it's not like me, but I quickly locked up the van and followed her. She was leaning against a railing overlooking a series of cascading falls as I rounded a bend in the path and spotted her. I knew she had seen me approaching, and so I walked into the overlook casually, having no idea what I was doing.

"Kind of mesmerizing isn't it Agg-Plant?" She turned and looked up at me.

"Which one are you?"

"ELM-608"

"Oh. The lost road base."

"Sorry. First day on the job. I didn't realize, well, obviously. I was just trying to not mess up to bad."

"Don't worry about it. If you hadn't been the odd ball coming in there empty, I wouldn't have taken any notice of you." She smiled again.

"Well, I guess I'll have to do a better job being anonymous in the future." She laughed.

"Good luck. I've never had the knack."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I can imagine," I said, and then instantly regretted my words. Quickly I changed the subject. "You know people actually kayak this river." I was looking hard at the rapids, the sky, anything but the little person standing next to me who, in my own mind at least, I had just insulted. "I used to work with a guy who came up here with a brand-new kayak and bashed it to pieces the first time through here. Over a thousand bucks down the drain in less than ten minutes of use. He was still mad about it when he told me the story years later." Ouch. Whatever I was doing, it was pathetic. I wanted to be anyplace else. Why had I come down here after her.

"Hard pass," she said.

"Likewise. I'd watch it flow all day, maybe splash my feet in it, but boat down this, no thanks." Awkward silence. The sun was getting low. "Well, I should be on my way. Good night Agg-Plant."

"Have a good evening, ELM-608."

I walked back the way I had come from instead of continuing along the trail. I felt embarrassed and stupid. Why had I followed her down there? She probably already thought I was some kind of unskilled idiot, but at least I was just a schmuck in a truck. Now, I'm a human weirdo too. I was mumbling insults to myself the few minutes it took to get back to the van. I unlocked it and slid the door open and was fumbling around with the folding chairs when she spoke.

"You live in that?" I turned around to see Agg-Plant standing in the road.

"Uh, yeah."

"How do you have any room in there for... anything?"

"It's all right. I'm just borrowing it for the summer. Want a look?" Oh crap, where is the masturbation sleeve? I looked around quickly, everything was in order, no embarrassing sex toy in sight.

"Sure" she said hesitantly, and walked into the porch.

"Go on, have a poke around." Please don't find the fake pussy I fuck at night alone like a looser my mind screamed at her. She leaned into the van and looked. "The couch folds down into a full-size bed" I told her. "The passenger seat swivels around as you can see. The kitchen, though I've only used it a couple times seems pretty efficient, not that I've tried cooking anything to complicated yet. There's another bed up top. Even has satellite internet."

"No bathroom," she said turning around and sitting on the van floor, legs dangling out into the porch.

"If you open the tailgate there is a shower that will leave you wanting a proper shower. There is also a toilet, but I don't want to tell you where it is."

"Why not?"

"Because you're sitting right next to it." She looked to her right and slowly leaned away to her left.

"I never would have guessed." She got up and walked to the entrance of the porch. "Well if you ever need a real shower ELM-608..."

"Sean. I'm Sean. Sean Wolfram."

"Well Sean Wolfram, if you ever need a real shower someday you can maybe come find my place." She started to walk away.

"Thanks. And will I just need to ask around where 'Agg-Plant' lives or do you have a name too?"

"Heather Grey." She waved and turned around and walked away.

The next day work was a bit better than the day before. The morning was spent hauling more rail ties to the grinder, but the afternoon was rock and dirt to the aggregate plant, though I never spotted Heather. I was kind of disappointed. The remainder of the week went much that same way. We worked, more or less, all the hours of daylight Monday through Friday. If we were behind schedule, as we were, we also worked until 1 p.m. Saturday. Sunday we had off. However, if we wanted, we could volunteer to work Saturday afternoons. As I would rather sit in the truck cab and make money than sit in the van and fidget in boredom, I decided to work extra on Saturday. With a reduced workforce, and truck traffic down, the focus of the afternoons work was getting base material on the right-of-way, and so I was in and out of the agg-plant all afternoon. On one of my trips, I finally spotted Heather again. I thought about her every time I came there, but we never had a reason to talk on the radio. I was just departing with my fourth load of base material when the radio came to life.

"ELM-608, Agg-Plant. Over."

"Agg-Plant, ELM-608. What can I do for you? Over."

"ELM-608, could you come on over to this side on your next trip and come up to the cab. I've got a job for you. Over."

"Roger Agg-Plant. ELM-608 out." What was this about? Half an hour later I pulled up on the receiving side of the agg-plant, shut down my truck, dawned my high visibility vest, hardhat, leather gloves, ear protection, and safety glasses, and made my way to the first machine in the line of crushers, screens, and conveyor belts that made up this mobile aggregate processing facility. I saw Heather looking down at me from the cab as I approached. I climbed up onto the machine and was immediately assaulted by the vibration and noise. I reached the cab, knocked, and let myself in. The vibration stopped immediately, and as the door shut, it became very quiet. I removed my ear plugs. "Hi," I said.

"Hi," she said. Silence.

"What can I do for you?"

"So...," it was long and drawn out, "The person I got a ride out here with this morning didn't work this afternoon, so my ride is gone. I was wondering if I could catch a lift back to the bus with you?"

"Oh yeah, of course. No worries. Whew."

"Whew?"

"Oh, I thought I had screwed up again somehow."

"You're very nervous aren't you. You should relax more."

"No, it's just, this is all new to me and I'd rather not destroy a half-million-dollar truck, or kill somebody in an accident that's entirely my fault. You know, avoid screwing up like that."

"Well, I suppose there is something to proceeding with caution. On the other hand sometimes you just need to relax and let go."

"Absolutely," I agreed. "Anyway, do I have time for another load?" We both looked at our watches.

"I suppose so. But don't leave me hanging here."

"One more, and then I'll be back. You can trust me." I waved and went outside where I was once again assaulted by the noise and vibration of the machinery.

Half an hour later I was back. Everything was shut down. The loaders that shifted the piles around were all parked in a neat row for maintenance to work on the next day. The dust was gone. It was strangely quiet. I spotted Heather with her grease gun way up a conveyor belt, she must have been a hundred feet in the air. I stayed put on the ground until she came back down.

"Everything all right," I asked nodding towards the top of the stacking conveyor. We walked towards my truck.

"Nope. That stacker is actually undersized for the amount of material we're moving through it and I'm worried were putting too much strain on the drive mechanism up top. Maintenance keeps telling me it's fine but," she held up a piece of paper, "I've traced out the final drive sprocket every other day and can watch the sprocket teeth getting worn away. Pretty soon the drive chain is going to start slipping and we'll lose production."

"Well, that's no good, with the project already behind schedule."

"Yeah. And we've hardly started to put this plant through its paces yet."

"Have you told anybody about this besides maintenance?"

"The supervisor knows, but I get the feeling he doesn't want to rock the boat. It's better to break down and fix things in his eyes, than do anything proactive and spend money on something that's still technically working."

"That's too bad. Anything I can do to help?"

She snorted a laugh. "Not unless you know the owner of the company."

"Yeah," I laughed. "Wouldn't that be convenient."

We climbed into the truck. The first step up seemed a little high for her, but just as I was going to offer to assist, she made it up. I entered the cab and dropped the rumble seat for her. She came in and shut the door. I started the truck and told her to buckle up as the ten-minute ride would be good and bouncy. It was. Unfortunately, it was also mainly silent. I stopped near the bus stop to let her out before going to park the truck. She opened the door and turned to me.

"How's life in the van?"

"Uh, it's fine."

"How's the shower working out." I was all of a sudden self-conscious.

"I've had better," I admitted. She nodded in agreement with my statement a little too vigorously.

"I'll show you where I'm parked after we get off the bus. But..." She paused.

"Go on and say it." I had a pretty good idea what was coming.

"Please don't sit next to me on the bus. You kind of stink." I laughed and she climbed off the truck.

Once she was clear, I drove off and parked in the line of other articulated dump trucks before walking back to the bus stop just in time to catch it. I did not, though I was tempted, sit near Heather. Back at the state park campground I walked with her, trying to stay downwind. We chatted about nothing until arriving at a land whale. It was a bus, the kind of thing musicians in famous rock bands probably had on tour when they weren't in their private jets. I just stopped and gawked at it.

"How does someone even afford a thing like this" I blurted out without thinking?

"In my case, I divorced my deadbeat ex-husband."

"Oh, sorry," I said, meaning it more for the question I had asked.

"Don't be. I'm not. Only down side is he got the kids. He made all the money, had better lawyers than I did. They're old enough now that they don't really want to give up their time with friends and video games to come and slum it with Mom in an RV. That was the idea, travel, see the country. Did for a while, but got bored, so I started working along the way. That's how I fell into this racket."

I wasn't sure what to say. "Well, your ex sounds like a jerk."

"You're a smart boy aren't you 'Stinky'." She laughed.

"There's a nickname I don't need, 'Crusher'."

"Oh no no no. Do not call me that over the radio."

"Why not. I like it. It's got a ring to it. I'm sure everybody will be calling you 'Crusher' within a few days of hearing it."

"Exactly. Now, if you keep this 'Crusher' business to yourself, we'll see about you not ending up as 'Stinky'. Go home and give me twenty minutes, then come on back and the shower is all yours."

"Sounds good." I walked back to my van, peeled the boots off my feet, dislodged my safety gear, and grabbed a change of clothes, towel, etc., for the shower. I killed a few minutes before walking back over to Heather's giant RV. I knocked on the door and was dumbstruck when she opened it, she was wrapped in a towel, with another curled around her hair.

"All yours," she said, smiling as she backed up the stairs to the interior. I followed and was blown away by the scale of the inside. It was huge, absolutely staggering when compared to my van. "This way."

"Holy crap, this is amazing."

"Well, it's pretty much home year around so..."

"Yeah, I guess." I followed her into a corridor and she pointed to the bathroom. I stepped in.