Burt was hot and tired when he pulled into
Jake’s Grill. He had been driving on old Route 66 since morning
and he desperately needed a break. He saw Pete pull in about the
same time. They often ran into each other at pit stops. Truckers
favored the historic route that wandered all over the country and
was sprinkled with the best roadside diners this land has to offer.
Pete smiled. “How’s it going?”
he asked Burt.
“Just another day in hell. I wish
I liked truck driving.”
“It’s the open road, man. You
can feel the heart beat of America,” Pete replied.
“All I hear is the thump-thump-thump
of oversized tires on worn-out asphalt.”
“That sucks! I love being “king
of the road.” Besides, women love truck drivers, ya know.”
“I don’t get that kind of reaction.
The women seem to run the other way.” Burt lamented.
The two ate their lunches then headed back
to the parking lot. The waitress flirted with Pete but only nodded
“Did you see that? It’s like
I’m bad news.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,
Burt. Maybe you should buy a Dr. Phil book or something?”
Pete flashed a toothy grin and waved as he headed for his refrigerated
Budweiser truck parked at the roadside. Burt just shrugged his shoulders,
slumped a bit and grumbled under his breath as he went back to climb
into the cab of his open-topped double bed fertilizer truck.