10-4 Magazine January 2025

of scaring the heck out of that yard dog walking to lunch. However, I can’t help but notice the window rolling down and the wide-eyed driver tentatively leaning out, looking at the vacant spot to the right side of our truck. Then, slowly turning his tractor, he drives away from our truck and then stops with the rear of his trailer staring at us. I really don’t think he’s allowed in the back row, as his truck has no stacks, no nose, and no bull bumper! Nevertheless, he begins backing towards the empty space beside us. Even though I’m intrigued by this driver, I struggle to stay awake as my head droops down and my eyelids feel heavier and heavier. The bright hazard lights flashing on the rear of his trailer make these truck stop lights seem weak by comparison as the cab is bathed in red. I struggle to stay conscious and watch as his trailer juts to the right, then left, then right again, then repeatedly pulls forward then back, all the while the cab shaking intensely to-and-fro. His confusing, multiple actions bring me to the point of boredom, and I cannot figure out why the little white semi is backing at such odd angles. I can see the driver’s dismay reflected faintly in his side mirror as he stares intently into it. I conclude there is nothing new to see or bark at, so I let the weight of my eyelids win over my desire to observe the still confused trailer and I lean against the wooden steering wheel, my chest supported by the same KW logo in the middle of it as my driver’s hat. Instantly, I drift away into sweet slumber where I don’t even hear my driver’s obnoxious snoring anymore. That is, until a loud crunching sound fills the air which I’m sure was from the dream I was having of cracking off the knuckle of a bone. I’m jolted awake and suddenly my upper body falls underneath the steering wheel, legs dangling in front of the seat. Waking up quickly, I know I need to bark viciously at whatever is rocking the truck back and forth, but I am prevented from doing so by the sudden slap of the gray curtain upside my head as my driver throws them open and storms through from the back. He’s screaming a jumble of unintelligible, half asleep cuss words at the trailer that is in the process of assaulting our truck. Of course, I join the melee by growling and barking intensely, and then jump out of the driver’s seat onto the passenger side, just to see our horribly mangled chrome air cleaner crushed by 10-4 Magazine / January 2025 57 the slow moving trailer. I whine as I watch the side mirror begin to bend, and then with a crack, it falls to the ground. It is during this horrific act that my driver pulls the long-braided leather strap hanging in the cab and the deafening air horn blasts throughout the sleeping truck stop. The offending tractor trailer suddenly stops the assault on our truck, halting its attempt to remove any more parts from my home. Amidst the cacophony of horns and howls in the cab, socks and underwear are thrown about and the still slightly unintelligible cussing of my dazed driver doesn’t stop as he pulls his oil-stained blue jeans on in the dark. He’s obviously half-awake and forgets he can make light in the truck with a switch. He pours out the driver’s side door half dressed with a look of rage I’ve only seen once when I chewed up his carton of cigarettes that day so long ago. Seeing the worn, black baseball hat still sitting on the dash without a head in it made me think (as my driver galloped off in hastily pulled on cowboy boots towards the trailer’s tractor) that this must be something catastrophic. I have never seen my driver exit the truck without said hat and this gives me cause for great concern. Bouncing from seat to seat, shedding and whining with excitement, I watch as the sheepish, wide eyed, short-nosed truck driver gets out of his cab and faces my rabid, long-nosed driver. I can hear the faint barking of dogs, noses stuffed through slightly opened truck windows, awakened by the blasting air horn just moments ago. I realize now a decision must be made. As a devoted trucking dog, how should I best support my driver in all this pandemonium? Should I leap to his support for the mangled air cleaner still clinging to life and the mirror that lays stunned on the gravel lot? Do I protect him from the drivers, awakened from sleep, some shuffling around in sweatpants, watching and recording the scene from a distance? I can hear the outrage and the loud accusations from my driver, along with the loud yet weak explanations from the driver responsible for the assault. The calm of the late night is broken by this amplified lecture being given by my driver. As dogs continue to bark inside trucks and trailer lights flash on and off, I look out the windshield and realize the one thing I don’t hear amidst the barking and belligerent drivers is snoring. I push through the vertical, vinyl curtains and leap up onto the welcoming, deliciously warm mattress and fluffy pillows. Scratching out a bed in the soft sheets (that I don’t normally get to lay on) I curl up under the soft fleece comforter, still bathed in body heat from my driver. Leaving my driver to fend off the wayward trailers without his hat, I shut my eyes yet again, concluding that maybe these truck stops are not so bad, after all. n