Mark Twain Essay Contest Winner
JULY 2009 38 TRUCKERS NEWS O nly farmyard lights punctuat-ed the moonless prairie night. Since midnight, Charlie hadn't met up with any big trucks and had seen only two eastbound four-wheelers. This remote two-lane, laid down arrow-straight through fields and widely scattered small towns, be-longed to him. Glad to be West Coast-bound for a change, he had settled into that state of consciousness peculiar to all-night drivers. His weathered hands rested lightly on the steering wheel. A relaxed alertness of eye, hand, foot and brain freed him to slide through the dark hours with a sense of time that neither passed nor dragged. A piece of his mind floated apart from his rhythm of driving, a rhythm as automatic as breathing. His mind flowed from memories to future plans and back again, like the oxbows of a meandering river. For many, the all-day wait for a load followed by an all-night drive fit the DOT regs on paper but sharp-ly conflicted with the body's sleep rhythms. For Night Owl it was an ideal system. He had slept through his wait to load. Now the open road was free of daytime traffic the soothing envelope of blackness and the absence of ratchet jaws on the CB were a bonus. His own reflec-tion in the passenger window, lit by the dashboard gauges, was a silent companion through those midnight hours. He listened to the hum of the Cat, the familiar rattles and, most of all, the quiet. A sudden scream of terror, a ban-shee cry, tore into the solitude. With the sensation of ice melting into his muscles, seconds passed like min-utes before he realized the terror was not in the cab with him it was crackling out of the CB speaker. God, oh God, somebody help me! Get him off my truck, he's try-ing to climb in, he's coming! I can't get him off my truck! The cries left Charlie's heart rac-ing, his mouth dry. The terror in that voice was almost catching. Yet something didn't fit, didn't quite make sense. The fear, someone climbing on the guy's truck was he broken down? Was this driv-er getting robbed? Hijacked? And where? Which direction? Charlie's radio range was only a few miles. Driver, Charlie said, get a grip. Where are you? What the hell is going on? The cry resumed. You got to get MARK TWAIN ESSAY CONTEST FIRST PLACE Trucker helps fellow driver battle his demons KATE KOSSE DARK SIDE OF THE ROAD