On a Long and Lonesome Highway

The police and a couple ambulances showed up a short while later. Everyone gave a similar story, but the descriptions were all a bit different. Of course, no one could agree which way they left, and the descriptions of the bikes were vague. No one could remember any identifying features on them. A few people were also sure that Andy and his friends started it and threw the first punches. I was pretty sure that when they got out of the hospital, they were going to get thrown in jail for a while. Unsurprisingly, there was no video available from the 'broken' security system. Marge informed the officers that a new video recorder was going to be installed tomorrow. [Snicker].

Anyway, after the day I had, I was really disappointed that Lonesome hadn't posted to her blog that night. I was already depressed from knowing that I would most likely never see her again. I don't know what it was, but I was really drawn to her. I would always perk up whenever she walked into the diner. Now, I was further saddened by missing a night reading Lonesome's blog. I wondered what happened tonight to cause her to miss posting.

The next day was depressing. A couple police detectives showed up doing some follow-up interviews. Unsurprisingly, there was no new information for them to use. I was worried that Adam might bring me into it, but Marge had assured me that he understood how hazardous to his health that would be. She managed to sneak into his hospital room and show him some pictures of her brother -- and his chapter of the OMC (Outlaw Motorcycle Club) he was running. It was obvious that the investigation was going nowhere. Even if they were still investigating, they had zero interest in a redheaded female trucker. They did, however, find a nice quantity of drugs in Adam's car as well as on each of them in person. Yeah, Adam and his friends were going away for a while.

The news of the incident had gone out over the airwaves, spread by the truckers over their CB radios. Surprisingly, we were busier than usual. I found out later that several trucks that would have normally just passed by decided to stop and see where it happened. It's kind of like becoming a new tourist attraction, just being where something interesting happened and seeing if you could see any indication of the event. I ended up having to talk to the customers a bit more, pointing out exactly where it happened, and giving them a few discrete details (the modified version, of course). I really hoped that the news would reach Her, and she would understand that it was completely safe for her to return. I made sure to stress to every trucker I could that they should broadcast over the airwaves that it was safe and the BIKERS who were involved were long gone. I also mentioned that no truckers were involved at all. Hopefully, the news would find her.

My shift was finally over. I was back inside my trailer and getting ready to relax. After pulling a beer out of the refrigerator and plopping down on my couch, I opened my laptop to see if Lonesome had posted another blog entry. She had! Excitedly, I opened the entry and began to read. I suddenly froze as what she wrote registered in my mind. She described exactly what had happened in the diner! Everything was there! It was HER! My fantasies were actually true. My redheaded goddess was, in fact, Lonesome!

Lonesome:

It had been three months since the incident. I had to decline a couple loads because they had me going too close to that truck stop. There was something really strange going on. First, being the paranoid that I am, I had been keeping track of the local news in that area. I had been surprised when the initial reports blamed the entire fight on the three assholes for initiating it. That wasn't a complete surprise -- it is what actually happened. What was surprising was that the beat down was claimed to have been done by 6 large MALE bikers. There was not a single word about a woman being involved, except it seemed like it was started by the three assholes insulting a woman that was with the bikers. Maybe that was all just a smokescreen to get me to lower my guard and return to the area. I had used a similar ploy a couple of times in the army to apprehend a suspect that had disappeared. I wasn't about to fall for that.

Another odd thing was that I had picked up snippets of conversations over the CB about someone looking for a redheaded female trucker. Obviously, that was very concerning. Nothing good ever comes from someone looking for you. Typically, I stay off the airwaves unless I need to get information. That turned out to be an advantage, because I could just let them talk without them realizing that I was listening. Just because I am paranoid, doesn't mean that they really aren't out to get me.

Tasha:

I was getting really frustrated. It had been 4-months now since I last saw Lonesome. I had thought several times how ridiculous I was being. I really knew almost nothing about her. Sure, she was gorgeous. Yes, I got to know a lot about her from reading her blog, but there was almost nothing about her personal life or background. I really only knew that she was a long-distance truck driver, owned her own rig, worked as an independent, and had been in the military at some point. I could guess her age as late twenties to early thirties. She was definitely a lesbian but had no relationships. She had obviously been hurt really badly from a relationship at one point. That was obvious by her occasional references to someone she only referred to as 'HER'. I didn't even know her name.

I had started off rather subtly the day after the incident. I made sure to comment to every trucker that I waited on about the brawl and how it was six bikers that did it. I casually mentioned that they might want to spread the work about it. I hoped that she would hear about it and know that she had nothing to fear by returning. After not hearing anything for a month, I started a new plan. I began to casually mention that a redheaded female trucker had been in here and left something behind. Did anyone know her or how to get in contact with her? No one knew anything, at least no one claimed to know anything.

Lonesome:

On a long and lonesome highway, East of Omaha, you can listen to the engine moanin' out his one note song. I'm in trouble. I'm gonna have to lay low for a while. Sorry, can't say where I am for a while. People are looking for me. It must have something to do with those three assholes I fucked up several months ago. Fuckers must have gotten it on the security cameras. Thought it would have died down a bit by now, but I heard some guys talking about it on the CB today, and that was halfway across the country. Heard a basic description of me. They were asking if anyone had seen someone that looks similar and drives a truck. Shit. I knew I should have just minded my own business, but I just couldn't stand by and watch as she was taken away against her will. Oh well. What's done is done. Only reason that anyone would be looking for me is that I am in serious trouble. Time to find a place to hide where they can't find me.

The US isn't safe for me anymore. I've noticed way too many looks my way when I stop for fuel or food. I've also seen some strange looks on the road when either I pass another truck, or they pass me. Maybe it's my paranoia, but I have the feeling that I am being tracked. I need to get out of the country for a few months and let things cool down. I know exactly how I'm gonna do it, too. New posts might be a bit random, but nothing I can do about that.

On a positive note, I was flashed by a carload of college girls today. I don't think they were expecting a woman driving a big rig. There were four of them in a convertible with the top down. As they drove past me, they all flashed their titties at me. You should have seen their faces as I flashed mine back at them. I had a brief moment of happiness before I remembered that I had no chance at a real relationship with them. No one wants a loser like me. SHE didn't. Why would anyone else?

Lonesome

With that posted, I climbed out of my rig for my last cigarette of the day. As I was smoking it, I reflected on what I was about to do. Everything had been set up. Once I got to where I was headed, my rig would be modified to handle the elements. The contracts had already been signed. They offered to let me park my rig and use one of theirs, but I was just too comfortable with my own rig. It would be dangerous, but that didn't matter. If I didn't survive, no great loss. Eventually, someone would probably inform my family, but I doubt that they would really care anyway. Stubbing out my cigarette, I climbed back into my rig for the night. I had a long drive North beginning early tomorrow morning.

Fuck, it's cold up here. Not that I was really expecting anything else, but still. I've been driving the Canadian Ice Roads for two months now. The money was great, but I was more concerned about staying out of sight and disappearing from everyone. I kept to myself as much as possible. Most of the drivers were focused on the load count, but I was just trying to keep busy and out of everyone's sight. The best way to accomplish that was to keep driving as much as possible. When you stop, other people see you and want to interact with you. When you are on the road, no one can see you and try to talk to you. I finally had to slow down because I found that I was in the lead for the load count. Winning that would draw more attention to me. Couldn't have that.

Tasha:

What the fuck is up with this chick? I've gone out of my way to try and get her to understand that she is in the clear. I just want her to come back here, but she somehow thinks it's a trap. Instead of being relieved, she's running farther away? Shit. This is aggravating. I need to do something drastic. Well, one thing I know, a career as a waitress in a dive truck stop diner is a dead end. I need to find something better than this. I thought of a rather interesting plan. If the mountain won't come to Mohamed, Mohamed needed to go to the mountain. Two weeks later, I put my plan in motion. It took six months, but I finally got the payoff, thanks to the network of truckers I cultivated.

Big Jim:

I was a regular at this out-of-the-way truck stop in Arizona. While it was mainly out of the way, it was on my normal route and was conveniently positioned where I could stop for the night. I had been stopping there for years I had pulled in there one night, and they had a new waitress. She was a pretty young woman, and she flirted with everyone. Hey, I'm a guy. When a pretty young woman flirts with you, you flirt back. Nothing ever came of it, though.

One time, a couple of months after she began working there, I saw a woman that went by the handle of Gingersnaps in the diner. No one really knew her. She pretty much kept to herself. I only knew her handle because I had talked to her on the CB a couple of times. I had seen her a few times at other truck stops, but she usually just ate dinner, then went back to her truck for the night.

I was a bit surprised this time, because I saw her actually flirt back with Tasha. Nothing came of is, as she went back to her truck after she finished eating. Still, I did notice a subtle difference in the flirting Tasha did with me and everyone else vs. the flirting she did with Ginger. It seemed to be more real with Ginger than anyone else. I noticed the same thing over the next several months whenever Ginger would come in. Tasha always seemed to be in a better mood whenever Ginger was there. Ginger also seemed to be more alive when she was in the diner and Tasha was working. I saw her a couple of times when Tasha was off, and you could tell the difference. Ginger just seemed to be more morose when Tasha wasn't there.

I happened to be there the night of the incident. I saw those three assholes confront Tasha. I knew what I had to do, but I also knew that I was going to get my ass seriously beat. There was no way that I would be able to stand up to all three of them. I was just about to stand up when Ginger beat me to it. I couldn't believe it when she antagonized the three of them. It was as if she was actually trying to get them to attack her. I was trying to get some help from a few of the other guys when all hell broke loose. I sat there in shock when she put the first two on the floor. Then, she destroyed the lead asshole. I sat and watched as she proceeded to give all three of them a beating that they would never fully recover from.

As she turned for the door, I knew what she was thinking. Her initial attack could have been seen as justified in rescuing someone else from being abducted. The problem was that once the initial attack was over, the brutal beating of defenseless people was unjustified and highly illegal -- no matter how much they deserved it. As Ginger left the diner, I motioned to a few of my buddies. We walked out right behind her. After a (thankfully) brief encounter where I explained our desire to help, we all left the truck stop at the same time. It was only about a week later when I stopped back in that I heard what Marge had done.

Ginger had disappeared. Well, not completely. She did disappear from this area. I heard through the grapevine that she was still out there but traveling in other areas. The news was broadcast over the radio network that the beatings were done by a group of bikers. It was hoped that Ginger would hear that she was not being looked for and return to the area. For some reason, that didn't work. She actually began staying farther away.

CB (Citizens Band) radios are in almost every big rig on the road. Other vehicles have them as well, but most of them are in trucks. We use them for giving and receiving information out on the road. If a driver passes a speeding trap set up by local police or the highway patrol, we get on the radio and warn the drivers coming that way about it. If there is an accident on the freeway that causes backups and delays, we warn other drivers about it so they can find alternative routes. Sometimes, we just talk to other drivers to relieve the boredom of being on the road. If there is a major issue, the message gets sent down the line to inform other drivers and let them make plans accordingly. It's a great tool and almost a necessity for long-haul drivers.

Tasha really wanted Ginger to come back. It was plainly obvious to anyone that knew her that she really liked Ginger and was desperate to see her again. I discussed it with a few of the guys that I had gotten to know over the years, and we began broadcasting over the radio for any fellow drivers to be on the lookout for her. If they talked to her, tell her that she was free to return to the truck stop and that there was someone that wanted to see her. It only took a couple of days before the message was spread all over the country. Reports began to come in about where she had been seen and a few times that someone had tried to talk to her. Unfortunately, that totally backfired on us. She became even more skittish, then completely disappeared. Two final reports came in during the beginning of November stating that she looked to be headed North, running fast and bobtail (no trailer).

Lonesome:

On a long and lonesome highway, East of Omaha, you can listen to the engine moanin' out his one note song. You think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before. Well, there was no woman or girl last night. Hasn't been for years. Still, I do think of one. I don't really even know her. We just flirted a few times. Besides, she's not even gay. That was obvious when her ex-boyfriend showed up. OK, sure. She had broken up with him, but the fact that she had a boyfriend to begin with shows that she's straight. Still, I can't help thinking about her. That just emphasizes the loneliness. Best not to try and start anything. I'm not sure what would happen if I had to go through another rejection. I'll just stay away from Arizona. Eventually, she will fade from my thoughts.

So. Dear readers (assuming that anyone actually reads my crap) I am back in the States. Springtime closed the ice roads, so I'm back driving on pavement. Made some decent money there, and I'm hoping the heat cooled down back here by now. Fuck! I just want to drive in peace. Leave me alone. Just another anonymous truck driver crossing the country delivering whatever the fuck needs to be transported. Anyway, I'm picking up my first load tomorrow morning. Another cross-country run. Time to rack out.

Lonesome

Driving the ice roads in Canada was a good experience. I made a nice amount of cash there. Now, it was time to get back on asphalt again. I hadn't heard anything about me on my trip down here, so I assumed that the heat was off of me. I had a brief thought about possibly swinging through Arizona on my way to deliver this load in California, but that could only lead to problems. There would only be two people that would want to see me again: my family and HER. Neither would be a good prospect, and I couldn't imagine why they would. My family had pretty much disowned me when I came out to them. SHE dumped me in the cruelest way possible. The only reason that I could figure out why SHE would want to see me would be to open up those wounds again. I couldn't let that happen. No, the only reason that anyone would want me back there would be the police so they could arrest me. That's the only thing that made the slightest sense to me.

I stubbed out the butt of my cigarette with the toe of my cowboy boot and climbed back into my rig for the night. I dreamed of sparkling light blue eyes and long blonde hair.

Tasha:

Finally. Thanks to some help from a few friends I made, as well as the kindness of several complete strangers, it was about to happen. I worked my ass of over the last 6-months to get here. 'Here' was about 5-miles behind her. Big Jim was a little ways behind her, but keeping her in sight. I was riding with another trucker that was talking to him. We never mentioned her. We just talked to Big Jim, and he gave us updates on his progress. The plan was that he would watch her and pull off when she did, then relay to us where he was stopping. That way, we could meet up with him. It would just be a 'coincidence' that he would stop where she was at.

Lonesome:

I had pulled off into another truck stop. As I got out to begin fueling my rig, I saw another driver that I recognized. He was one of the drivers that pulled out of the stop in Arizona after I beat down those three assholes. I think he went by the handle Big Jim. I nodded in greeting to him, then began the task of pumping diesel into my trucks fuel tanks. Thanks to that idiot Biden that resides in the White House, fuel prices have gotten stupid high. That fucking asshole doesn't care what his fucked-up policies are doing to us independent drivers.

I pulled over to the parking area where I would rack out for the night. This stop had a decent motel next to it, but I decided to just camp out in my rig for the night. I grabbed my duffle bag with a change of clothes and toiletries and went into the building. After reserving a shower for when I finished dinner, I went into the diner. I had been sitting in my booth for about five minutes when the jukebox started playing. I stiffened in my seat. It was a very familiar song, but one that wasn't often played on jukeboxes.

"On a long and lonesome highway, East of Omaha, you can listen to the engine moanin' out his one note song. You think about the woman, or the girl you knew the night before."

What the fuck?

"But your thoughts will soon be wanderin' the way they always do When you're ridin' sixteen hours and there's nothin' there to do, And you don't feel much like ridin', you just wish the trip was through."

Someone slid into the seat on the other side of my booth. I looked up and saw sparkling light blue eyes.