10-4 Magazine December 2022

58 10-4 Magazine / December 2022 As I sit in the driver’s seat, rubbing the confusion from my eyes, I open the door to once again be confronted by that crazy old man, but this time he was the receiving agent with my bills. “Dennis, your load is complete, and I have your paperwork right here.” I just sat there unable to move, with my thoughts all jumbled up in my head. “I don’t know you, but each time you appear you are someone else, and you still call me by name. I’ve never seen you before today, but now this is the third time. Who are you and why are you following me?” His appearance slowly changed back to the first old driver who stopped me in the fuel stop. When I looked closer, I saw he was dressed as an old-time union driver from before my day. He wore a nice uniform with polished shoes and a driver’s cap, sporting his safety pins, that dated back to the 1940s. Again, he spoke with a gentle voice, a reassuring tone that I could not rebuff. “Dennis, I’m your guardian angel. I’ve been with you every day since your first day driving a rig. Never have you been alone when I wasn’t on the job protecting you. You don’t recognize me, but all through the years we have talked. Each time I have been someone different who you have interacted with, but still I was there. Now, I’m a very old angel, and I fear my ability to help you may not be as sharp as it once was. You too are aging, and have had health troubles, too. Remember when you couldn’t get home from that charity run to Paintsville, Kentucky? You became too tired and weak to drive those last few miles. It was me who steered us back to the house. Sure, you were in the seat, but I drove the truck. Someday when you hang up the keys and pass onto the next life, I will get my wings and, like me, you will be the next guardian angel.” “Driver, you know I have seen your past and we are in the present, but I need to show you your future before it’s too late. This, my friend, is my gift to you.” He placed his withered hand on my shoulder and then pointed to the windshield. As if watching television, I could see a hospital room with people milling around, but no one was paying any attention to the crippled old man who lay quietly in the bed. “Old timer, what’s happening? Why are we here,” I asked. “Dennis, remember how you wanted to drive from the southernmost point in the United States to the top of the world in Dead Horse, Alaska? Well, you finally got that dispatch. And we were doing great until that moose ran onto the road and there was no place to go.” “You were warned to get a heavy-duty bumper that could withstand a collision with 2,000 pounds of wild animal, but you said it cost too much, and there wasn’t enough money to buy one. The front axle was ripped loose, and we crashed into the ravine. The tractor turned over and you were pinned under the cab. Your truck was totaled, the trailer broke open, and the cargo was destroyed. Everything was a loss.” “While you were laying in this hospital bed fighting for your life, your insurance company contested the claim, and your wife had to pay the damages. She was forced to sell your company and the family home, and now she lives with your son in Arizona. This pains me to show you this, but if you don’t stop pushing yourself so hard, this will be your future. The money isn’t worth all the pain you will cause. Your family loves you and needs you. Driver, for you, it was always about the money, but for them, it was about sharing your life. You must know that love cannot be purchased at any price.” As my guardian angel continued to talk, he said, “This is the time of year when we do acts of kindness for others. The giving of gifts is all too often valued not by the person who gives it, but by the one receiving it. Please accept my gift of your future. Dennis, we are getting too old for you to keep acting young.” The old gentleman looked me straight in the eye and said, “You need to go home to those who love you for Christmas this year and give them all your time. Spend every waking moment sharing their lives. This freight isn’t that important, and all the money in this world can’t buy their love. Remember, driver, after all these years, I can no longer fly fast.” I was awakened by the ringing of my phone. When I answered it, the voice on the other end said, “Driver, your bills are ready in the office, and you are okay to hook back up to your trailer.” Feeling somewhat bewildered, I looked around for the old timer, but he was not there. I called out several times, but no one answered me. I finished hooking up to my trailer, and then the receiver signed my bills and said, “Have a wonderful holiday,” then closed the window. I hit the highway and pointed the hood towards home. The weather was turning colder by the mile, and it had started spitting snow by the time I reached Fort Wayne. I fumbled around for a good weather station, but couldn’t get a local one, so I settled for the Detroit station that was reporting that a blizzard was arriving in the next 12 hours. The announcer gave some safe driving tips, and then signed off with, “If you are out in this weather, never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly.” I pushed on, determined to make it home, to help my wife wrap presents and decorate the tree before Christmas. The further I drove, the worse the storm got. The snow was piling up fast, and drifts began covering the road, making it impossible to navigate the shortcut using county roads, since there wouldn’t be any plow trucks running after midnight. As the minutes ticked off, I continued to roll into the night, with my only thought being I had to get home. The miles faded into a blur of snowflakes and fog. My head hurt, my eyes burned, and the muscles in my shoulders and back screamed from the tension, but somehow, I still rolled on.