What I do at Work
Title: A Day in the (Truck-Driving) Life
It’s another sunrise in the small town of Misty Peaks. The mist lingers in the cool morning air as the local coffee shop opens for business. One by one, the stragglers begin to file in, chasing away their caffeine withdrawals, until one final patron enters through the swinging saloon doors – sermon started loudly a day. He’s a rough-looking fellow, with an unkempt beard, a bandana wrapped around his head, and a flannel shirt straining against his thick, muscular frame. His name was Daddy Bear, and he was a truck driver.
Daddy Bear sauntered up to the counter, flashing a charming smile at the quaking barista. “Hey there, doll,” he rumbled. “Just gimme my usual – black coffee, strong enough to strip paint.” The barista gulped and nodded, hurriedly pouring him a steaming mug.
As he waited, Daddy Bear reached into the pocket of his faded blue jeans and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out with a calloused thumb, placed it between his thick, nicotine-stained lips, and lit it with a flick of his zippo lighter. He took a deep drag, relishing the taste as he exhaled a cloud of smoke up above his craggy head.
A few minutes later, he was back behind the wheel of his 18-wheeler, Peterbilt 389, a gleaming beast of a truck decked out in chrome and maroon paint. Daddy Bear fired up the big diesel engine, and it rumbled to life like a sleeping giant. He shifted into gear and hauled the rig out onto the open road, smoke curling from his lips as he drove.
The hours ticked away as Daddy Bear cruised across the country, hauling cargo from one remote location to another. Along the way, he made a few brief stops for fuel, food, and the occasional smoke break. He’d park his rig in secluded rest areas, step out onto the sun-scorched pavement, and light up a fresh cigarette, savoring the peace and quiet for a few precious moments before setting out once more.
As the sun began to set in a glorious display of oranges, pinks, and reds, Daddy Bear found himself in a small town near the California-Oregon border. He pulled into a roadside diner for a bite to eat and a cup of joe. The old-fashioned jukebox in the corner filled the air with the twangy strains of a long-forgotten Johnny Cash song.
Daddy Bear slid into a booth, ordered a greasy burger and fries, and lit up another smoke, nodding along to the music. A waitress with a wobbling corset and a nose ring brought him his meal, and he ate heartily, his bear-like could downing plate after plate of home-cooked Southern fare in record time.
Just as he was finishing up, a bleary-eyed, perky bar tender came stumbling out of the kitchen, startling the seasoned trucker to attention. She was a thick, curvy country girl named Honey, with big tits and an even bigger attitude. His eyes roamed over her voluptuous body, taking in the way her jeans hugged her wide hips and her tank top strained against her ample breasts.
Honey plopped down across from him in the booth, her mile-long legs sliding underneath the table. “I don’t normally do this,” she said with a lazy smile, “But I’ve seen you around here before, sugar. What’s a bubba driving a Peterbilt like you doing in a scuzzy town like this?”
Daddy Bear grinned around his cigarette, taking a long drag. “Just passin’ through, darlin’,” he rumbled. “Truckin’s a tough racket, and it don’t leave much time for a social life. What about you? What’s a sweet little thing like you doin’ in a dump like this?”
Honey shrugged, playing with a lock of her honey-colored hair. “Not much. Learnin’ how to sling drinks and shuck and jive with the best of ’em. Maybe pick up a poster or two while I’m at it.”
Daddy Bear chuckled deep in his chest, a sound like distant thunder. He reached across the table and planted a huge hand on Honey’s thigh, giving her a gentle squeeze. “You’re a looker,” he said simply. “And a real doll. I bet you got the boys coinin’ outta the woodwork, eh?”
Honey smiled slyly, leaning across the table. “Maybe they do, maybe they don’t,” she purred. “You gonna offer me a ride home, bubba? Or are you gonna keep making me wait for it all night?”
Daddy Bear winked, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Oh, I got a ride for you, alright,” he said. “Question is, do you think you can handle it?”
