Thursday, December 22, 2011


Exhausted and absolutely unready to step into a truck cab which held the contents of my belongings, I nervously started the engine of the vehicle that would take me away from the surroundings that I would no longer call home. Intensive trepidation began to fill the interior of the cab as my hands hugged the steering wheel so tight that the blood supply was cut off and my nails dug deeply into the palm of my hands that the nails made skin abrasions. As I traveled into late afternoon, the sky grew darker and the rain began to fall. Already stressed with paranoia driving this big moving truck, the rain just added more intensive psychological torture. I glanced across the seats and watched my dog as she shivered with the fear trying to figure out what the hell was going on as she could sense my fear of what was being played out in the drivers seat. At one point my panic seized me and my imagination went awry with visions of the truck door opening and my dog falling out due to not being strapped in. The overwhelming sense that I needed to pull over took control and I radioed ahead that I needed to stop and pull myself together as my reality was coming too fast with what was happening and I just needed to regroup and let the paranoia pass. I got out of the truck and ran swiftly to the mens room where I heaved the last of whatever existed of food in my stomach and washed my face, and as I stared into the mirror realized that some sort of chemical altering needed to be pursued and not just for myself.

While I pulled myself as together as I could in the bathroom, I reached for my phone to Google and see if I would be able to share my prescriptive tablet with my canine. Happily the news was good and I took the direction of how much to give her so I hurried back to that burly truck and crazily rummaged through my suitcase until I retrieved the little bottle that dispensed little white oval pills and took one out and shared it with my dog. Both of us guzzled enough water and swallowed with ease as the little white pill slid down and would soon begin to do it's job and melt away the fears, paranoia, panic and soften the emotional blow that change delivers, despite the fact that you asked for it. I then buckled her in and closed, locked, and opened the door several times to be assured that it would not come unlocked during our trek to the desert of my just reward.

I hiked myself back up into the cab, popped my Pepsi open, and gulped heavily hoping the caffeine would heighten my awareness. As my little white pill began to melt within, I eagerly anticipated the effects that would be happening soon. The truck lurched forward as we pulled back onto the wet and rainy highway and sped forward, both of us just waiting for the digested ingredients to take hold and smooth out the bumpy highway that we had been traveling. I knew if I let my thoughts drift into any form of mental contemplation I would open the floodgates of tears and fears and I would just repeat the previous reactions and knew that I could not allow that to happen again. Luckily I began to feel the drug effects and my intensity began to release and I could see that same effect on my dog as she slipped softly into a calm sleep.

I realized at that moment that we made quite a team from the chemical comfort zone that slowly wrapped its cocoon of safety around us. We drove on for another two hours before the need to sleep took hold. Those past two hours were a blank stare into the night and the shiny wet black tarmac just melded into the never ending cloudy night sky. I truly needed a physical and mental shutdown. I never imagined myself a "trucker" yet here I was driving one. Inside it's storage there was packed a mess of contents that represented that part of me, guilty of needing worldly possessions to create the comfort zone known as home.

Calling "breaker,breaker" it was time for some rest, as I could see the flashing neon lights that beckoned me to pull in and rest for what was left of the night. I guess you would have to call it a truck stop.....for it was here that I would silently melt down and pray that I would wake up the next morning and know that I had just had a bad dream and that it was not the reality that I had asked for. Perhaps it was a left over nightmare from another place and time, and as I laid my head on that pillow, I glanced sleepily toward the half opened curtained window, I saw the bright red and orange neon sign outside spell out the words "TRUCK STOP" and I and my pup, at that point, readily agreed as sleep invaded our conscious for the next eight hours.
The unfortunate thing was that big mechanical giant was still beckoning to us as we opened the door the next morning............So much for the idea of a previous nightmare as reality had made it's appearance once again.

It was fact for sure, as the wheels of that big truck began their cursive stride barreling down the highway toward our new horizon that we would soon call home.
Copy That Breaker....10-4....Over ...

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