I’m not a driver. I never have been. I trust my feet and a few horses I’ve met.
But nobody else could go. And I was expendable. So, off I went.
The rig was huge. I’d obviously seen them before. But I’d never gotten close to one. Belying all logic, the chrome, mirrors, and hood were still so shiny I could see myself in them. I knew as soon as the wheels started moving, the mud would cover all of that. Road maintenance wasn’t really a priority anymore.
I took a deep breath and climbed up into the cab. My faithful, ragged hiking backpack felt dirty compared to the pristine interior, but I threw it between the two captain’s chairs, then turned to Sam.
“Okay, come on,” I invited. He jumped in eagerly. His muddy paws lightly passed over my seat as he took his place on the passenger side, expectantly waiting for the engine to start. The truck would be comfortably dirty in no time.
Nobody was there to see me off. Old Willy had given me lessons on how the big rig worked in comparison to a normal car, and I figured out the added sticks and buttons fairly easily.
I looked over at Sam. He looked back at me, excitement written all over his quivering features. He always loved an adventure.
“God, please help us not to wreck BEFORE we get there.” I sent the prayer up as I yanked the truck into gear and pulled out.
