Chapter 18 Hooters, Tooters and the Big Dog
I spent last night with a fugitive
The eyes just weren't cooperating. It was morning and although I got three hours of sleep the night before, they refused to stay open in the spring morning sun. Running westbound on I 40 between Amarillo and nowhere, I was just outside of New Mexico. The last of the Texas plains were a memory and the rough country of New Mexico loomed ahead. I high tailed it into the San Jon rest area and grabbed an hour of shuteye. The fertilizer wasn't in a hurry and neither was I. Dallas was home recovering from old rodeo injury related surgery, so it was just me and the big red one.
I awoke an hour or so later. Groggy but ready to roll. The truck eased out of the parking lot slow and easy. Not much weight but enough to make each gear work. Eighteen gears and a dozen poses as we profiled our way out of the large vehicle parking area, past RV coaches and lost tourists and other sleeping drivers. On the road again.
The CB was active. I merged onto the freeway and some lady driver was heard in the background. Going by the handle "In Between", I was relieved to hear that although she sounded like Bodacious, she wasn't. Unless Bodacious had changed her handle. The thought of restarting the morning running away from Bodacious and her chicken truck was intriguing. But it would be hell on the fuel mileage. I was looking forward to the idea of running a 6.5 average. If Bodacious was around it would become a plummeting express elevator.
Hitting the top gear, I set the cruise and sat back. Brad Pitt was in the background reading Cormac McCarthys' All the Pretty Horses. The speakers echoed with each inflection and the sun got hotter and the story fell headlong into starkness and strife. Pitt was the perfect reader for the story. In his near quiet voice, descriptions rolled off the tongue. Words became the tales of New Mexico meeting Mexico and cultures clashing and youth slung shot out of the passivity of protection and into reality.
In Between was gaining on me. She was in a green W-900 KW coming up fast in the hammer lane. Momentarily distracted by a hill, she seemed to pause. Behind her a Blue Classic Freightliner pulling a freight wagon was hot on her tail. From the CB I gathered his handle was "The Big Dog." In Between and The Big Dog were making miles. Running hard.
She wasn't pulling a chicken wagon but had a load of beef. Kansas style. Fresh from the packing plant and late before she was started, she rolled into the sun. Chrome sparkled and clean paint caught the light. Behind her, Big Dog was the definition of likewise.
Caught up on the hill behind me, In Between groaned when I pulled out in front of her to get around a slow JB Hunt truck. Then I knocked off a couple of US Express trucks and a Werner. The Who's Who of those not making miles with their governed, castrated, wanna be 'large cars'. Been there, done that. Crawled up those hills in what seemed to be a cruel version of reverse. I waved at the drivers and they waved back.
"Look at that Big Dog," whined In Between. "A freight hauler just pulled in front of us. We are gonna have to slow waaaayyyy down." She was referring to me.
"No way. Damn freight haulers...", commented The Big Dog. Neither he nor In Between could see around my back doors to see that this company trailer was not pulled by a company driver in the standard issue, gutless, company truck. I stroked it over the hill and left the two of them scrambling and struggling behind me.
"You see that Big Dog?" In Between asked.
"Yep. That truck has either got a load of sailboat fuel on or it ain't no company truck," he said.
"Well get 'em," she said.
I pulled out Brad Pitt and All the Pretty Horses, shut down the radio and started concentrating on the 525 horses I was running. It was decision time. Be good, get passed and get the going over from In Between and the Big Dog or make a hard run for it. The way they were pulling I could easily lose them in just a few hills and it would be Albuquerque before they even thought of catching me again. Fuel mileage would go to shit but I could hear the whole cassette of Mr. Pitt without any further interruptions. True the CB could be shut off but that was asking for rude surprises if I lost a tire or the road got shut down ahead and I missed the news.
A Winnebago passing an Airstream made the decision for me as two sets of grandparents proudly displaying the "Were spending our Childrens Inheritance" bumper stickers clogged up the works. Traffic bottlenecked and everything slowed to ten miles under the posted limit. Big Dog and In Between cussed. I was boxed in and found myself staring into the cab of In Between as she came up next to me. She had a rider. A pretty young lady. In Between was older but not bad herself. Almost a Reba McIntyre look a like. She had some miles on her and a person could tell that innocent wasn't exactly in her vocabulary.
"Big Dog, you should see the pretty truck I am passing. That ain't no ordinary freight hauler. It's a large car. Driver’s kinda cute. Hey there, what’s your handle there sweetie?
"I can't tell you," I told her.
"Sure you can. I'm harmless," she said.
"Nope. Can't. And I already know you are anything but harmless," I told her.
"How’s that that you know so much?" she asked.
"Just do. I can tell. My handle, it would trouble you. So I can't."
"Yes you can. It must be a good one. Talk real quiet so just I can hear it and I won't never tell no one. Swear." She was looking at me then looking at the road then back at me. Her rider was trying her best not to get involved. Yet every once in a while she'd look over too.
"Nope. Can't." I kept on keeping on. Traffic was rolling again in the hammer lane and she could have rolled ahead of me but she just stayed steady next to me instead. I was boxed in. All I could see on my horizon was a tattered aluminum RV, both mossy and shedding its skin, going so slow as to be almost stopped.
Big Dog was getting impatient. "In Between, what are you doing up there?"
"Looking," she said.
"At what?" he asked.
"This purty little thing running next to me in the ‘ High Mountain’ truck. I got to get me one of him. I ain't budging until he talks. He's hiding something and I can smell it. He won't tell me his handle but I'll get it out a' him. I'm good." She talked in that famous Kentucky Fried Chicken Hauler voice. Low scratchy and sexy. She had the looks to match the voice. Her rider looked over at me and rolled her eyes. Her rider was, upon closer view, much younger and a different definition of pretty. She didn't look old enough to be In Between’s co driver. She was too young.
"C'mon, In Between. Let's get it going. We're making a mess back here. Hell, even JB caught back up." Big Dog was getting impatient.
"Nope. Not till he talks. I want to get a handle on his handle." She looked over at me. Red tangles of teased hair dangled across her forehead. Her hair was somewhere just this side of mall hair. A cigarette hung suspended between long painted nails. Every once in awhile, she flicked it out an open window. She was grinning at me and her rider was trying to pretend that she was anywhere but in that truck.
"Listen In Between. You and I, we got to get one thing straight. I ain't telling you my handle. I can't. I won't. No matter what. You JUST ain't getting it. It’s JUST the way things are supposed to be. And I know its JUST killing you and its JUST killing me that its killing you but we both JUST gonna have to deal with it or JUST roll over and die. Because that is what's gonna' have to happen before I tell you my handle. Now I'm sure y'all got much more important things to be fretting about and my handle sure ain't one of 'em" I gave her my best 'catch me if you can' grin and 'rubbing salt in the wound' look. Luckily for my ass, that Airstream finally pulled off at the bottom of a good hill. I powered into the hill. They staggered.
Pulling away from them, I left The Big Dog and In Between struggling in the Hammer Lane to get over that Whoop D Do of a hill. Behind them both lanes were a mass of traffic.
"In Between?" I asked.
"Yes?" She came back.
"You look mighty foolish sitting there holding up all that traffic. I just want you to know that it was a pleasure running with you." It was arrogant of me to say such a thing. I know it just added fuel to her fire. I suppose it even made me a Male Chauvinist Pig, but damn, if it didn't feel good to just walk over that hill and put a half mile on her and The Big Dog in just a few.
"Big Dog?" In Between asked.
"What?" he responded. He almost sounded irritated.
"We got to catch that High Mountain truck. I'm gonna get that handle." She sounded determined.
"Oh for Chrissakes In Between, just leave it be. You ain't ever gonna catch that boy. You just gotta put it out of your mind. Forget about it." Big Dog was frustrated.
"Can't" she responded.
The Big Dog groaned.
I stayed out of traffic bottlenecks and made good time. Big Dog and In Between got smaller and smaller in my mirrors. Soon enough it seemed that they were on to other topics. Their focus shifting off of me and onto more important matters. Forgotten, I listened in amazement at the goings on behind me.
"I am a full Irish Red Head", In Between was saying. "Its all real. Ain't no dye on this head. I got me red on my head and a snatch to match."
Big Dog was intrigued. "Let me see", he begged.
Apparently she stuck her head out of the window as he passed her.
"Look In Between, I already seen your head. I want to see the other." He pleaded.
"Uh uh", she said.
"Please...", he begged.
"Nope, I can't. But if you slow down I'll show you something else." I instantly recognized that tone in her voice. I hadn't known her for even an hour but I knew. It meant mayhem. Trouble. I turned my CB up.
Things were quiet for a minute.
"Damn, In Between...that is a fine set of Hooters you got. Mighty fine." The Big Dog was impressed.
"Why thank you Big Dog. I'm rather fond of them myself." She was tickled.
I wondered what the hell was going on back there. So did every other driver within ear shot. Both Eastbound and Westbound.
"Where's the hooters?" driver after driver asked. Mile markers were exchanged. Locations given. The suspect’s vehicle was identified. Chaos reigned.
The Big Dog wanted to see the hooters of the rider next. She wasn't cooperating. I watched in my mirrors as the blue Freightliner came around on the passenger side of the green KW. Big Dog was pleading with her. "Please show me your hooters darling...I'll make it worth your while...I promise."
I wondered what Big Dog had to offer her that would be worthy of her exposing her breasts to a leering middle aged driver. In Between answered my question.
"Damn Big Dog..."You are one BIG DOG. You better put that away before someone gets in an accident!" In Between exclaimed.
"No. I'm gonna leave it out until that purty rider of yours plays too," he said.
Big Dog made mention of the fact that In Between had somehow entirely removed both her blouse and her bra and was now driving down the road top less. Big Dog continued to expose himself to the both of them and the final bombshell dropped when In Between confessed that the commotion up front awoke her boss who HAD been sleeping in the sleeper. He was now sitting up in the bunk, the sleeper curtain drawn, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. I figured that In Between had a lot of explaining to do.
Then it happened. Without warning. I saw the two trucks that were running side by side behind me do a strange dance. The radio went silent. The commotion only lasted a few seconds. But when it was over there were several pregnant seconds of silence while everyone regrouped. Big Dog was now trailing In Between by several truck lengths. In the mean time, she seemed to have regained proper possession of her lane.
"Sorry 'bout that Big Dog," In Between finally exclaimed breathlessly.
"You better be. What the hell happened?" Big Dog responded. They both sounded like they'd seen a ghost.
"I dropped my cigarette. Burned my Hooter. I missed it and the damn thing fell into my lap. Burned my tooter too." She was stunned.
"No shit?" asked The Big Dog. "You ok?"
"No shit," she responded. "And, yeah I'm ok... it burns a bit.... but my breast 'll be ok. Don't know 'bout the other."
"Well I almost lost the 'little big dog' in the steering wheel trying to stay out of your way. You don't know what a scare like that does to a man." He was still shaken.
"Well you don't know what a cigarette out a control does to a woman either." Her voice wasn't quite the same.
"Damn In Between...you gotta be more careful," he commanded.
"Ok, ok. I will. Still ain't putting my hooters away though," she replied.
"And we wouldn't want you to," another driver responded.
Chaos returned to the radio as drivers tried to figure out where The Big Dog and In Between were. The terrain was flatter now and as we flew by the Junipers and Cedars on the plateau west of Santa Rosa the radio was a constant hum of speculation about the whereabouts of the runaway hooters.
Company drivers cussed their predicament, frustrated at governed company tractors that wouldn't allow them to tag along or get a long enough glimpse as the two truckers flew by. Still, other drivers did manage to catch up and join the procession led by a proudly topless red head.
Another couple somewhere ahead of us seemed bent on adding more topless hooters to the mix. A woman named "Go Figure" proudly announced that her husband was convinced that she had a finer set. He wanted Go Figure to compare her set with In Between's. They weren't sure where we were. In Between asked them for a mile marker and to identify the truck. Which the husband proudly did.
They were in a Red freightliner. I realized, as they announced it, that I was in the process of passing that very same truck. I looked over into the cab and the husband smiled at me. I also saw his wife, Go Figure, who hadn't realized that another driver was passing them suddenly scramble for something to cover herself. She belted her husband for not warning her and then grabbed the CB mic.
"Did you see 'em, High Mountain?" Go figure asked.
"Yeah, I saw 'em" I answered.
"What did you think?" She asked. "Who has the better hooters?"
"Well maam, I can't rightly tell you. I ain't seen In Betweens' Hooters. I have only seen yours. They’re nice though. You ain't got nothin' to be ashamed of." I could appreciate the artistic merits involved in this exercise in judgment, form, and mammary gland confirmation. It was all academic. A pursuit of the highest standards of excellence. I felt no dishonest misrepresentation as I shared my vision of her hooters with everyone who was listening.
My credentials as judge were unquestionable. I pondered my grandfather’s well known love for all things Hooter and used his finely tuned skills and criteria (which he had often shared with me) to make my call. She had a fine set.
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In fact, grandpa, right up until before he died, pursued and continued to refine his judgmental skills in this area. In Spokane there is a quaint little franchised club where he used to hang out with his buddies.
For "Lunch".
Known as Deja Vu, the home of 99 beautiful girls and 3 ugly ones it is also the home of the Texas Couch Dance. It wasn't until late one evening several years ago when Dallas and my pick up truck broke down outside this establishment, that we found ourselves entering the place my grandfather had so frequently and fondly spoke of to my grandmother as having the "finest food" in town.
We sat down at the bar and waited for the menu. A beautiful woman approached us and asked what she could do for us. Although it was obviously a strip joint we were still under the impression that they had a full menu. Imagine the surprise on all concerned's faces when we learned that they didn't serve any food. Never had. Never would. They only served beverages. Suddenly my grandfather’s curious development of diabetes was explained. It wasn't grandma's cooking but all those years of going with out lunch so he could have "lunch" with the boys at Deja Vu. Imagine a twelve hour day of hard work with out a bite to eat.
It was several years later that he got caught. He was ill with terminal cancer and a hospice worker sat across from him explaining the progression of his illness. As my grandmother and I sat across from them in the living room, we took it all in as he asked many questions of the pretty young woman. After a long pregnant silence, grandpa finally asked the hospice woman if he could continue to go to Deja Vu for lunch with my uncle. The stunned and blushing hospice worker looked at my grandfather in amazement. He frail with cancer and worn from the treatments but still wanting to go to the Deja Vu. She finally laughed and looked at him. "Orin, you know they don't serve food there."
My grandmother shot me an alarmed look and I quickly interjected. "Oh yes they do serve food there. I've been there." Grandma was now looking at me puzzled. "It may be food for thought but it's nourishing just the same"
"Damn right it is," Grandpa interjected. The hospice worker just gave us one of those condescending smiles that women sometimes give men who are in cahoots together. It said 'well aren't you two just a fine work in progress.' Thankfully she never pursued it any further. And, my grandmother, horrified that the subject had been brought up to begin with, was also content to let the subject drop. I think she knew all along what my grandfather and my uncles were up to. Montana women are just plain smart that way.
Still, my grandfather would have approved of my compliments directed towards Go Figure.
___________________________________________________
Go Figure responded enthusiastically, "Why thank you High..."
Go figure was cut off by In Betweens' booming voice. " High Mountain? Is that you? I'm gonna catch you so you can see mine. Why won't you run with me?"
I responded, "Because I know you are trouble, In Between."
"How do you know that?" she asked.
"What color is your hair?" I asked.
"Red. Naturally Red." She said.
"See, that’s how I know you are trouble and that if I run with you, you will get me into trouble. I have a lot of experience with red heads. They only lead to trouble. I've been down this road before." I was determined to stay out of this one. I didn't want to see In Between’s hooters. I didn't want to get The Big Dog pissed at me for moving in on what ever he thought he might have going between him and In Between. And, I didn't want to be forced in to judging who had the nicest set. In Between or Go Figure. The irony of the situation was not lost on me. I was sure there were far better judges in the near vicinity than me.
"I will never get you into trouble. I am very good. I never get anyone in trouble. You should trust me." She wasn't giving up.
"I can't. Besides I saw what you did back there when you dropped your cigarette." After I spoke there was silence. In Between’s green KW was now running next to Go Figure’s red Freightliner. I wondered if Big Dog was just beside himself that there wasn't a third lane. I knew right where he'd be if he could. In the middle one.
Over the next few miles there was a lively roundtable discussion over who had the best set. The old timers were voting for In Between because she had "Class and the Sass to Match." The other drivers were inclined to vote for Go Figure because she was from the 'show me' state and she promised to never drop a cigarette anywhere that might 'alter the mood'. I wondered what her husband was thinking about the competition. I considered that maybe things might be getting just a little bit out of control. Looking in my mirrors I figured there were at least twenty trucks bunched up behind me in the hooter procession.
Unfortunately In Between tired of the competition and once again focused her sizable attention on me. " High Mountain?" she asked.
"Oh no", I thought. "What now?" I'd stayed far enough ahead of them to keep tabs on their goings on but kept out of harms way if In Between dropped another cigarette. The Big Dog was silent.
"Yes," I responded.
"I have to go Pot Tay," In between announced using the Arkansas French pronunciation for piss.
"OOOOOOOOOhhhkkkkaaayyy..." I answered.
"Why don't you stop with us at Cline's corner? I can use the ladies room and I'll buy ya' a cup a' coffee. Then we can keep running together. Where you heading?" she asked.
" California." I said a small prayer.
"Me too." She said.
I groaned to myself. "I can't stop In Between. I gotta go." It was a lie but it was necessary. I could imagine the convention that would be descending on Clines Corners. I already knew who the key note speaker would be.
"You are no fun", she responded. "You won't tell me your handle. You won't look at my hooters. And you won't run with me. I think you are hurtin' my feelings. You don't want to piss off a red head now do you?"
I was trapped. I could feel the jaws of strife descending on me. Cutting off my options. "No maam. I certainly would never want to piss you off. You are way to pretty to be walking around pissed or with a frown on your face. Just look at all those nice drivers who are willing to escort you across 'forty. Now why would you want to hang out with an inexperienced hand like me when you can be surrounded by people who know how to do a fine woman like you right? I just can't fill those footsteps. But I appreciate the offer and hell, if I told you my handle, it would just upset you no end so I am just gonna' keep it to myself, 'cause I just can't do that to a lady such as yourself."
I hated myself. I had no pride. Big Dog confirmed it. "That was smoother than slick willy, In Between. You gonna let him get away with shinin' you on like that?" Big Dog asked.
"Yeah it was smooth wasn't it? I liked it though. He knows how to talk. He claims to be sweet and innocent but that boy knows something. He ain't worried about me getting him in to trouble. Nope, that boy is worried about him getting me in to trouble. I know it. And as soon as I go Pot Tay I am gonna catch him. That some trouble I gotta find out about."
We said our goodbyes and I started wondering where I was going to hide out for 12 hours while she got ahead of me. I finally settled on the Ranch in Albuquerque. Ah, the Ranch, a notorious country western watering hole for people in search of same sex company and conversation without obligation. Under the glow of those near holy neon beer signs, last call could become first call. At the Ranch, I could practice up on the intricate dance steps of lonely looking for a friendly 'how do'. A line dance that I knew I could trip over just as easy as the next guy. Behind me, I watched as the whole pack of trucks exited off the freeway. Clines Corners would never be the same.
In my mirrors, I also noticed that there was one lone truck that hadn't exited. A red, long nosed, 'Pete' pulling a bull wagon. A truck I hadn't passed. I wondered how long it had been back there. sneaking up on our back door. Listening.
The truck was immaculate, with a big chrome Texas bumper and painted in the kind of red which glows in all type weather. I watched the truck quickly catch me and was surprised when it moved out into the hammer lane and then slowed down as it came up next to me. The truck was piloted by a cowboy with a big dark bushy mustache and a Straw Stetson cowboy hat. He wasn't wearing a shirt and I could see that he hadn't been eating a lot of Chicken Fried Steak. He studied me for a minute then extended a muscular arm across the passenger seat. He threw me a big smile and gave me a thumbs up. And then he was off.
I took out after him towards the looming Santa De Cristo mountains. He was running hard and after a minute he came over the radio in a low voice that was quiet and calm. " High Mountain, you know she won't rest until she finds you."
"Yeah, I 'spose your right." I answered, sullen.
We rode in silence though Moriarty. Then he spoke again. "So how about it. You fixing to tell me your handle or am I gonna be chasin ya too."
I thought for a minute. Considered my options.
"Well?" He said. "I only ask once...then..." He got quiet...like he was also considering options.
I told him to take it to another channel. Here was a hand I had no problem sharing my handle with. |