Simco Road

--Prologue--

About 20 miles southeast of town, there is a road that runs across the desert. It connects the four lane interstate with the small town of Grand View to the south. A straight, two lane ribbon of black top, running almost due south across miles and miles of empty desert and endless sky. It is the main link between Grand View and the larger towns and cities along the interstate.

However, Grand View is not exactly a bustling community, and the road itself sees little traffic. It is a perfectly straight unbending ribbon of asphalt, where a car could cruise for miles and miles and the scenery will never change. There is just a near endless vista of flat sagebrush desert, broken only by the distant mountains and an old volcanic cinder cone off to the west. "Grand View" indeed. The town itself is hardly a destination spot for scenery. Or a destination for anything else for that matter. It is a hardscrabble and dusty place situated next to the Snake River, a welcome respite from the flat desert, but certainly not exactly Shangri-la. A huge stinking cattle feed lot, and a depressing looking downtown with just two bar/restaurants, and a couple typically small rural businesses are the only attractions. As for the road itself, there is nothing- just empty desert for miles. Not even the slightest bend in the road until it hooks with Highway 51 nearly 25 miles south of the interstate, just a couple miles outside of Grand View. Cars can travel this road at truly frightening speeds- over a hundred miles per hour, and never worry about cops, or other traffic to slow them down, because there is simply nothing out here.

The road most likely took its name from the Simplot Corporation, who to this day still owns a vast cattle feed lot at the southern end of the road, near the outskirts of Grand View. For many years, Simco Road was not even paved; it was just a gravel washboard desert road. Until in the late 1990s, perhaps some Simplot company bureaucrat, or maybe a frustrated coalition of Grand View residents hoping to bring more commerce to their desolate and boring little town, successfully lobbied the State Highway Department to lay down asphalt on the road.

So there it sits- a vast, endless and perfectly flat expanse of concrete crossing the vast, endless and flat expanse of nowhere.

--1--

"Ah, fuckit, Owen fucked it up, wait, okay, start over." Nick said. BoneAssed Rack's pre-gig rehearsal was not going well. They had a gig that night, and they had been struggling through their set, trying to get the songs tight before going on stage later on. Plus they had to drive out to some rinky-putz little town out in the middle of nowhere to get there.

Owen Stromquist had joined the band a couple months ago and knew all the band's newer stuff. However, he hadn't quite picked up a lot of the older tunes, which Nick had wanted to include in the set. Specifically, "Magic Elixir," which was a tune he and the Claymore brothers had written a few summers ago, and which the fans always dug. Or rather, what few fans there were, because when you got right down to it, BoneAssed Rack was never exactly destined for international stardom.

Nick Earnshaw had not started the band with intentions of "making it big." Rather, he and his buddies were looking for a hobby to keep them occupied while they worked their own boring day jobs; he worked as an HVAC installer, the brothers both worked in construction, and Owen apparently worked in some office as some kind of computer tech guy- Nick couldn't remember for sure. The band was just an opportunity to jam out and play music with friends, and play an occasional gig and pretend to be rock stars for a night or two. They mostly played their own material which they had written, though they tossed in an occasional cover, some old familiar standard, for the fans to rock out to. The few fans they had, that is.

Nick's girlfriend Mandy had always been a fan though, and she always managed to tag along to practices and gigs, sometimes to the annoyance of the other guys.

"It starts in "D." It goes, D...C, B; then back down to the low C." she explained, haughtily. "Then the chorus is in "A."

"Well, listen to YOU, Miss Know it all." Owen groused.

Sheesh, if she knows the dang song so well, why doesn't SHE just join the fucking band, he thought to himself, clearly irritated.

"Alright guys...here, let's do-over. Sam, that's you," Nick said, indicating the drummer.

Sam Claymore kicked off the opening beat, and the band launched into "Magic Elixir" again. This time, Owen seemed to pick it up, though Nick still had to look over at him to tell him when to drop to the A chord for the chorus.

"Yeah fucking hell man, that's more like it!" Nick said, after they finished the song. "So like, what else do we wanna do? You guys wanna do 'Micron Bombs?' Or should we do 'Forty Eight Lowes Chevrolet?' Or we could do both..."

"Okay, yeah... 'Micron Bombs.' Let's do that one, I like that song. That's the one that starts out with that fast hammer on lead on the top e?" Owen said.

"Yeah, that's the one. Let's do it. Here, wait, lemme grab another beer." Nick walked over to the fridge he had plugged into the detached garage where the band was practicing and grabbed a Keystone. Six bucks a twelve pack. Quality stuff, this Keystone was. Like two people having sex in a canoe, he thought to himself- fucking close to water. But it was cheap, and after chugging enough of them, it didn't matter what it tasted like- it took the stress off just the same.

The band got through "Micron Bombs" almost without a hitch. The others followed Nick's heavy driving bass line totally on point, and Owen nailed both the opening lead and the solo with ease. It sounded pretty good, Nick thought. Except to the one audience member present, naturally.

"He's out of tune again..." Mandy said, pointing at Wess Claymore's blue Stratocaster. It had sounded fine to Nick, or at least, good enough. Wess glared at her.

"Fuck... whatever..." Wess said, going through the motions of tuning. Bottom string A, open 5th string A. Fifth string D, open 4th string D... okay, yeah, maybe the D was a tiny fraction of an eighth of a tone off but who the fuck would notice. Well, Mandy, obviously.

"Do we wanna go again?" Wess looked over at Nick.

Nick unslung his bass and reached over and turned off his amp. "Nah, fuck it, that's good enough. Let's just load up and get moving. Wait a sec... let me grab another beer."

As was usually the case, Wess' younger brother Sam was the designated driver, by virtue of having far less to drink than the rest of the band. Nick was on beer number five, Owen and Wess had maybe three or four ("We're saving it for after the gig" they had said) and Sam...he was pretty much a lightweight. Until after the gig, that is. Mandy, oddly, seldom drank at all. And this night, as it happened, was one of those nights where she had insisted on not doing so. She was sipping one of those awful tasting energy drinks instead, as she watched them load up and get ready for the trek down to their gig, in that dumpy little town that Nick actually had to look up on a map to figure out how to get to.

"Got me a vaaan, gonna put dem equipments in..." Nick said, in a joking accent, as he and Wess carried his bass amp out to the driveway and loaded it in to the van. Wess chuckled to himself. Mandy barked at Owen, strongly suggesting he help Sam load his drum kit in, but, as both Owen and Sam noticed, she did not exactly offer to help them herself. "She's a chick...you know, let us do the man's work," Owen thought to himself, gritting his teeth.

"Man, Nick is a cool guy and a great musician and all, but that girlfriend of his...her bossy attitude is getting on my nerves!" he said to Sam quietly, after they had finished loading and were sitting in the van. Owen loved jamming with Nick and the Claymore brothers, and he fit the band like a glove- but even though he had meshed with the guys almost instantly, the more Nick's girlfriend hung around their practices, the more he got annoyed with the whole situation.

"Yeah well, she's... I dunno, I know what you mean. Sara and Tina used to come hang out while we practiced, but Tina didn't like the loud noise, it hurt her ears, and Sara got mad at a bunch of bro's drinking and cussing around our daughter, so we kinda have an agreement. She talked about driving down to the show and meeting us down there, but Tina has kindergarten tomorrow, you know." Sam replied.

"Well, Mandy IS pretty sexy... wait don't tell Nick I said that! So I can ALMOST tolerate her"

"Bet you'd tolerate her a lot more if you were fucking her..."

"...Yeah but I'm not. That's the problem." Owen replied.

"Maybe Nick is a little whipped. I mean, I get that. I'm the one who has a kid at home..." Sam said.

There was a thud on the side of the van. Sam leaned out from the driver's seat and saw Nick had walked up. "Hey we ready to roll?" Nick asked.

"Fuck, let's hit it!"

"Wait, uh...hold on, I gotta take a piss." Owen said, quickly jumping out the passenger door.

"Okay, hurry up fucksackner!" Sam replied.

"So uhh...where is this place again?" Sam asked, calling over at Nick.

"Turner's Sports Bar. Supposed to be right on Main Street there in Grand View, right downtown. It's a pretty small town; apparently Main Street's just like two blocks long" Nick replied. "That's what the guy told me... Just head out the freeway and it's the Simco Road exit. Go south, then at the end of the road make a right on the 51, and it will take us right into town."

Since the van was full of their gear, that meant that Nick, Mandy, and Wess would ride down separately in Nick's white Nissan Altima. There was some usual banter, Mandy needed to fix her make up, then she needed another one of those energy drinks from the fridge. Then Nick had to piss himself, then, just as the van peeled out and Nick was finally ready to fire up the car, Wess said, "Wait... hold on, I gotta take a leak. Where are my cigarettes!"

"FUCK. Hurry up fucksackner!" Nick said with obvious irritation.

Finally, they pulled out of the driveway of the somewhat run-down house Nick and Mandy were renting together, and hit the road. They headed down Orchard Street and onward towards the nearby freeway onramp, and on out of town on the open highway.

In Nick's Altima, Nick, Mandy, and Wess engaged in the usual common banter as the car sped southeastward down the empty expanse of I-84. Apart from a weigh station and a few ranch houses, there was nothing- only empty sagebrush desert, with the Owyhee and Trinity mountain ranges rising off into the far distance. It was a typical warm late May evening. Although it was nearly 7, there was at least another hour of daylight left, and the sun hung low in the western sky. Sam, Owen, and the van were far behind them; they had sped past them almost as soon as they reached the outskirts of town.

As Nick drove they talked about bands, concerts they had seen, TV shows they liked, crap about their work, and what not. Although, as the empty miles rolled by, the conversation drifted more and more towards Mandy's favorite shows, Mandy's favorite bands, and what was going on at Mandy's work- she was an "administrative assistant" at an architectural design firm. And, naturally, she claimed to know more about architecture, real estate, land use and zoning permits, and so on, than the other two guys ever wanted or cared to know- but whether they cared or not, she was sure to tell them as much as she knew. Long ago, Wess had realized that Mandy loved to be the center of attention. Well, may as well let her then. Though naturally, this made her a magnet for him and his band mates giving her crap occasionally. Now, she was regaling the others about some client at the firm who had insisted on a redesign because the columns on his precious McMansion were Corinthian alabaster, and he preferred Ionic white marble, and that had made the architects have to re-do the entire exterior, using something called "Revit" which Wess assumed was some kind of software package. He was seated in back, while Mandy rode shotgun- naturally. And naturally, she wouldn't shut up, Wess thought to himself, as he cracked the rear window and lit another cigarette.

Eventually, the car reached the Simco Road exit. There was a truck stop here, where big rigs on long-haul routes could come in and re-fuel. For a place out in the middle of nowhere, the truck stop did a surprising amount of business.

"Hold on," Nick said, "I gotta stop and fucking get gas. Maybe we can pick up another 12 pack for after the show; you guys want anything?"

"Well, I gotta piss like a fucking fire hydrant." Wess replied. "And I need cigarettes. Oh yeah, here's five bucks for beer and gas." Nick suddenly realized he was in the same predicament as well- now that Wess just had to mention the fire hydrant thing. Five bucks didn't go a very long way towards gas and beer money, and it wasn't like this gig was going to pay their month's bills or anything (or even their week's beer tab for that matter.) But at least Wess had the decency to kick in, he thought to himself. He pulled off the highway, onto the off-ramp, and then turned into the truck stop station, finding space next to one of the gas pumps.

The lady behind the register was the type of old haggard battle axe who looked like she had to deal with rough and tumble long haul truckers on a regular basis. In other words, she never smiled as she called him "Hon"... and told him that she couldn't sell him any gas.

"You need a long haul trucker's permit to buy gas here, hon. I don't think you got one, if that's your car there."

"Well how the heck would I know that- there's no signs saying I need no frickin' Trucker's permit thing, whatever the heck that is."

"It's company regulations. Sorry hon."

"But I need gas. Can't you make it happen? Look, I'll tip you five bucks..." Nick replied, reaching for the crumpled five dollar bill Wess had given him.

"Nope...you're on camera. I'll get fired if I sell you the gas with no trucker's permit. Sorry."

"What the fuck is this bullshit?" Nick was growing impatient. "I gotta get to Grand View..."

"Sorry hon...That's only twenty five miles. There's a gas station there. Hopefully you guys make it. I can't do nothing for you."

"Can I at least pay for the beer?" Nick said, clearly annoyed with Ms. Battle axe and her stubborn refusal to sell them gas.

"Yeah, sure, I'll sell you the beer, but I need to see both your ID's... and hers too." She said, pointing rather rudely at Mandy.

"Why her, I'm the one buying."

"She's with you guys, right? If she's not 21 then I ain't selling it to you. She don't look 21. State Law."

Nick grumbled. "Whatever..."

"Mandy!"

"WHAT." She snapped, stomping her foot.

"Uh, this lovely...lady... wants your ID." Nick said, gritting his teeth.

"Why?!"

"Look, just show it to her so we can pay for the beer and get the fuck outta here."

"Whatever, I'm not even fucking drinking..." Mandy said, haughtily.

"Just doing my job, hon" the lady replied in that same flat monotone.

Back on the road, Nick groused, "So at least she didn't give Wess any grief about buying cigarettes. Fuck that place; it's a wonder they stay in business, stupid bitch..."

"Well, actually- she did! She fucking carded me for the cigarettes. That's the first time I've been carded for cigarettes since I was a kid, and even then!" Wess replied.

"Well, we got like two gallons left in the tank; that should at least get us there. If not... fuck, if we run out we'll have to phone Sam and have him pick us up. If we even get cell service out here. I dunno... Fuck, what the fuck was that Inner State Truckers bullshit? The only gas station between Boise and Mountain Home and they can't even sell people gas??...that's fucked up."

If they got cell service out here... But as they started down the seemingly endless stretch of Simco Road, the likelihood of that being the case seemed to evaporate almost as soon as the truck stop faded in the distance behind them. Nick could see the road ahead stretching almost to a single vanishing point, like an elongated triangle pointing towards the distant Owyhee Mountains. Apart from the distant mountains, and the sun sinking gradually lower in the southwestern sky, the scenery in front of them was unbroken except for a large cinder cone butte a few miles away off to their right. Even the power lines, which had followed the edge of the road for the first couple miles, had veered off to the east, perhaps to serve some remote irrigation pumps at some equally remote cattle ranch. But now, Nick saw neither ranch nor powerline, nothing but an endless expanse of flat scrubland.

Perhaps subconsciously, Nick pressed the accelerator. The car speedometer read 80 miles per hour, but Nick hardly noticed. With little visual frame of reference, he felt like he could just as easily have been doing only 20.

He felt a hand reach over and rub his jeans. Mandy leaned over at him and smiled. Her dark eyes pooled into his. That look. The one that almost always set him off. He leaned over and kissed her.

She was wearing that naughty red pleated miniskirt again. As annoying as she could sometimes be- even Nick admitted to himself that sometimes found her a bit tiresome- she was incredibly sexy. Especially when she looked like she did right now...and lo and behold, she was unzipping his pants. He felt her hand reach down, into his unzipped pants, and grab his now stiff penis.

Nick had never had sex in a moving car before, let alone while he was actually driving it. This could be interesting, he thought. Luckily for him, it wasn't going to take too much effort to drive like this. The road was perfectly straight, and they had not seen a single car on it since leaving the truck stop behind, nearly ten miles back now.

The car raced toward the large butte outcrop on the right, as it loomed larger. It was about a mile off the road, but since it was the only noticeable topographic feature for nearly a 30 mile radius, it stood out like a sore thumb... or an erect penis. Which is exactly what Nick had, as her hand massaged his balls and began to gently rub up and down on his cock. Nick began panting, almost in unison with her, as he leaned over and kissed her deeply and passionately.

"Uh guys...guys..."

"GUH! WATCH THE ROAD!! FUCK" Wess had noticed the car drifting alarmingly into the oncoming lane.

Nick's head jerked back to the left and realized that yes, he had taken his eyes off the road for a split second too long. He quickly jerked the wheel back around, heart pounding from sudden alarm as well as sexual arousal. But the car corrected its course, and resumed its straight tracking down the arrow-straight desert byway.

"Uh sorry 'bout that..." Nick said. "We cool."

"Yeah, Don't kill us, love!" Mandy said, then giggling, she gave Nick a playful kiss on his cheek.

Then she slid all the way over, climbing over the transmission lever and center console, and onto Nick's lap. Nick, straining to see the road, began gently nuzzling the back of her neck, taking in the scent of her hair, giving her gentle goose bumps as he blew on the back of her neck.

She drew his penis clear out of his fly and slid on top of it.

Dear God! Nick realized. She's not wearing anything at all under that skirt- she's naked under there!

Just the mere thought sent his already engorged cock to near eruption, and he could feel her, her hairy and sweaty crotch as she began to grind against his member.

She slid forward and moaned as Nick felt his cock work its way into her, into her tight, tanned body beneath that teeny skirt. He began to buck his hips upwards. Meanwhile, his right foot automatically pressed down harder onto the gas pedal. The car began to speed up, but neither of them noticed. Even Wess, who was getting quite a show up in front of him- he tried not to look, but the problem is, there just wasn't much else to look at out here.