Friend of mine, a lively lady who happens to be a long-haul trucker, sends this entertaining story of life on the road:
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I used to write letters to people when I was sitting at loading docks. It was not uncommon to be parked for 4 to 6 hours at grocery warehouses, so I had plenty of time.
One letter that I wrote to Bob and Roberta began innocently enough. My truck was in the shop at a Kenworth dealer in Fort Worth, Texas. The mechanics told me I could hang out in the truck while they worked on it. This was cool. I love mechanical stuff, car/truck stuff, and especially mechanics doing manly things in the vicinity of cars and trucks.
I was writing the letter from the bunk and the curtains were open. Did not want to ruin the view! I had just placed my pen to paper when the passenger door opened and in popped the handsome face of a greasy mechanic. In uniform and everything. Did I mention I love things like that?
The only reason this is noteworthy is that I had not had a date or boyfriend in ages as a result of having sworn off of both. Unfortunately, my resolve had been slowly wearing down. A clear indication of this was the giant poster of Green Bay’s golden boy Brett Farve, pre-scandalous behavior, with a milk mustache displayed prominently in my bunk. I could gaze at it every night before going to bed. That poster brang me back to life. Thank you Brett – and USA Today – and the Milk Producers Association.
So here is this hunky mechanic sans wedding ring (I checked) with his torso draped across the passenger seat just a couple of feet from me. He was fiddling with some wires in the dash. For some reason my pen would not move. I am not sure how long I sat there, frozen, unable to break the spell this dude had on me. But I enjoyed the experience completely. He apologized for being in the way – are you kidding me?? – and I assured him that it was not a problem.
Only after he exited the cab area of the truck was I coherent enough to begin my missive. I had recently completed a disastrous run from Wisconsin to Los Angeles (or somewhere out West) and was eager to share it with my bro and his wife. It ended up a 13-pager. Don’t remember how long I sat in that shop, but it must have been a while! After I signed off, I added a title to the first page. It was called “A Christmas Story”.
Thanks again for the story. Brings back fond memories for me!
XO,
Connie
PS The Brett Farve poster was eventually replaced by a calendar of hunky priests given to me by my sister. She found it in Italy when she was there with the choir. That was one “attractive” calendar.
