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the ramblings of the girl and truck driver, trip 5, #3

The truckdriver:

Now, we are sitting in a motel room, room 132.  We wait for word from my company or the Peterbilt dealer, anyone, whether we stay checked into this room for another day or not.  It’s Wednesday morning, about 10 a.m.  Checkout is 11.  I was told earlier by the dealer that my truck wouldn’t be looked at til Friday.  Usually in these circumstances, the driver checks out, goes to the dealership and waits there for repairs to be performed. At the end of the day if the work isn’t done, all the drivers in the truckers lounge all get deposited back to a motel for the night.  This kinda deal is fine with me, not fun, but just fine.  The girl just passed some people in the lobby and a driver had been here for 13 nights.  Trucker life, you wait.


She stares at me expectantly from the bed as I peck this out.  Traipsing across a field that separates the Super 8 from the Peterbilt shop is not something she wants to do more than once.  I am on the spot.  I feel the crosshairs are upon me.  I’ve been here before, don’t panic, think it through man…

It’s only Wednesday, how is this gonna work out?

Sunday we were parked probably in the best and only legal space a big 18 wheeler could have parked right in the middle of Glenwood Springs, Colorado.  We had and took the time to hunt for a good dinner spot there.  Doc Holliday died in this town in 1887, tuberculosis finished him.  Gambler, gunfighter and dentist.  I’d like to, but not gonna go on about him.   We found this taco place called Hatch and Slope.  Damn good!

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