Saturday, July 08, 2006
I looked at the gas prices. Over seventy five dollars a barrel! Wow, I thought. Maybe I shouldn’t drive down to the J so much. I’d have to sacrifice, we all would.
No more late nights flying down to the J to ogle at giant Zippo lighters and Barjan tire knockers. Nope.
The J was out. Couldn’t do it. I had to be responsible. No way was I driving all the way down to the J.
When I got to the J that night, I swore, this was the last time. I walked down the aisle and took a gander at the greeting cards.
‘Trucker’s Wife,’ this one said.
I saw a plaque on the rotating display next to the greeting card rack. It told me that real men, real truckers in fact, love Jesus.
I went over to The Kettle restaurant. The menu showed me a summer selection of Italian dishes that looked taken directly from the menu at Olive Garden. Just then I glanced at a sugar packet in a condiment caddy. The sugar packet said ‘Truckers Bring It.’
Truckers do bring it, I thought.
The waitress, Mabel, came over and asked me if I was ready.
“Just a coffee,” I said.
“That’s it?” She had seen me before. I usually ate a Trucker’s Platter hamburger combo and had a slice of Long Haul pie.
“Yeah,” I said.
A computerized voice came over the loudspeaker. “Shower twenty eight is now ready. Shower twenty eight is now ready.”
I wasn’t taking a shower tonight. I was here to bask in the J. One last time.
William Comparetto
© 2006
No more late nights flying down to the J to ogle at giant Zippo lighters and Barjan tire knockers. Nope.
The J was out. Couldn’t do it. I had to be responsible. No way was I driving all the way down to the J.
When I got to the J that night, I swore, this was the last time. I walked down the aisle and took a gander at the greeting cards.
‘Trucker’s Wife,’ this one said.
I saw a plaque on the rotating display next to the greeting card rack. It told me that real men, real truckers in fact, love Jesus.
I went over to The Kettle restaurant. The menu showed me a summer selection of Italian dishes that looked taken directly from the menu at Olive Garden. Just then I glanced at a sugar packet in a condiment caddy. The sugar packet said ‘Truckers Bring It.’
Truckers do bring it, I thought.
The waitress, Mabel, came over and asked me if I was ready.
“Just a coffee,” I said.
“That’s it?” She had seen me before. I usually ate a Trucker’s Platter hamburger combo and had a slice of Long Haul pie.
“Yeah,” I said.
A computerized voice came over the loudspeaker. “Shower twenty eight is now ready. Shower twenty eight is now ready.”
I wasn’t taking a shower tonight. I was here to bask in the J. One last time.
William Comparetto
© 2006
