real name was Dave. I recited my rehearsed spiel, leaving out events of the last year and a half. It turned out, we had a lot in common. His dad was a professional engineer and mother was a stay-at-home mom, he was into hard rock and jazz, liked fishing, and eager to learn what the world had to offer.
He was very philosophical. "I look at the world like a huge university. Sure, I learned a lot in dental school but its scope was narrow. Out here on the road, I learn something from everyone I meet and every place I land. I like that. I have a good sense of myself. I know who I am." He was confident. He was not only good looking, but he was smart. His words resonated deep within me. I tucked them away in a corner of my mind. They would serve me well when it was time to deal with my dark past.
The scenery was pretty but held no fascination for me. I had seen plenty of mountains during family vacations in Colorado. My younger brother and I almost died during one trip to Colorado Springs. Our exhaust pipe was damaged so carbon monoxide leaked into the trunk and backseat and eventually into our little brains. My parents did not know what to do so they asked someone they met at a rest area. They were told to roll up the windows. That was the worst advice possible - poisonous gas pumping into an airtight car would have killed us for sure. Maybe that's where John got his idea to commit suicide in the Valiant years later. Luckily, my parents finally stopped at a doctor's office. Yes, I had spent enough time in Colorado. I was looking forward to leaving it and standing beside the Pacific Ocean.
Kayana woke up around 3:00, well rested and back to his jovial self. He reclaimed the passenger seat; I moved to sit on the doghouse. He was in fine form, cracking jokes and bouncing around in his seat. The closer we got to Salt Lake, the more animated he got. We were on the edge of the Great Salt Flats when he whipped his head around to look at me.
"I have a great idea! How would you like to drive our rig?"
I looked at him, shocked. Then at Wiley, who looked to be pondering the idea. A slow smile spread across his face and said, "Why not?"
"I, I, I" --- I stuttered.
"The road is straight as rain here. You'll be fine. I'll work the gears, you steer." Kayana was laughing. "Dis will be great. Ha!" His enthusiasm was rubbing off. I started to laugh. I fleetingly thought about telling them I only had my driver's license for a year but squashed the urge.
"Well, as long as someone else is going to shift, I'm up for it." They were apparently up for it because Wiley pulled over to the side of the road. He got out, went around to the passenger seat while I lowered myself into the driver's seat. Kayana climbed on top of the doghouse.
"Okay, pull the seat forward a bit so you can reach the pedals. Now slowly push down on the clutch." Wiley took on the role of driving instructor. I did as he said and pushed down on the clutch.
"Okay, here we go." Kayana pushed the gear shift into first. I gave it some gas. Or diesel, to be exact. He let out a Whoop! and we were off. There was very little traffic so merging onto the highway was easy
"Push in the clutch," Wiley ordered. Another push, another gear. A grind of the clutch, a little grimace, another gear. I hit my stride at around 65 mph. I finally let out the breath I'd been holding in for the past few minutes, concentrating on the road, my eyes laser-focused on staying between the white lines. A crackling voice from the CB broke my concentration.
"Hey, Wiley, looks like you're hauling more than beef. Who's driving?"
Wiley picked up the microphone and answered, "You got that right, Tiny." He looked sideways at me and asked, "What's your handle?" Remembering a recent bestseller, I said, "The Happy Hiker."
Wiley gave one of his short, deep laughs and introduced me to the oncoming trucker. Everyone laughed at that. The truckers waved as we passed each other. I didn't dare take my eyes off the road to catch a glimpse of Tiny but something told me that his name belied his size. A few more miles and my body settled into moving with the rhythm of the truck. Once in sync, driving became more comfortable, even relaxing. That feeling didn't last long. Kayana had other ideas. He leaned back into the sleeper and pulled out a bag.
"Here ya go, bruddah." He handed Wiley something. I was still looking straight ahead so I couldn't see exactly what it was but my peripheral vision told me it was long and thin. It was a bottle rocket! They had a whole bag of fireworks. Wiley laughed and rolled down his window. He grabbed an empty pop bottle from the sleeper, stuck the rocket in it and lit the fuse. Zzzzz! Whosh! Boom! Kayana pulled another from the bag and handed it to him. A click of the lighter, a little spark and Psst! Pop! One after another, they screamed away from the truck, blowing up over the Utah desert. Zing! Bam! Pow!
We were a rolling fireworks show with sides of beef swinging from side to side in the trailer. A real potential for danger. Any normal person would have been scared. I should have been but over the years my tolerance for fear had raised to an extremely high level. Things were so crazy at home I would accept any job just to get away from the madness. One time I babysat for one infant and two guys older than I was. While I watched the baby, the guys drank shots of whiskey while throwing knives at the walls. Even that threat level was slight compared to DEFCON 1 at home. My danger governor was set on "high"; it would take an awful lot to scare me. Bottle rockets being launched out of a moving truck hauling swinging beef just excited me. Thirty minutes later the guys finally tired of this amusement. Kayana retired the remaining fireworks for another time.
Wiley checked his watch and looked over at me. "We're going to be in Salt Lake in a few minutes. What do you want to do? Do you want us to let you off there? Our drop is about 20 miles past there. If you want to, you can come with us and wait while they unload the truck and we'll give you a ride back to I-15. That'll take you to LA. It's about an 11-hour drive. It's up to you."
I weighed the pros and cons. On the plus side, these guys were great and I felt safe with them. The bad thing was it was almost 4:30 and it was at least another 11 hours before I got to L.A. As much as I wanted to stay with them, I thought I better keep moving.
"Thanks, but I better get off in Salt Lake." This time I took my eyes off the road to glance at Wiley. Did his face show a trace of sadness? Yes, just a tad. Wiley smiled, shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms up. "I understand. I wish you could stay, but I understand. You better pull over here. There's a weigh station up ahead and you can't be driving."
"Wouldn't they flip out!" Kayana laughed. In a mock low voice, he said, "Who's driving?" Then in a high, squeaky voice, "Why, it's the Happy Hiker! Ah ha ha!" He laughed as he switched through the gears. When we were completely stopped, it was like musical chairs - Wiley got out, Kayana slid off the doghouse into the passenger seat, I crawled into the sleeper and Wiley got in the driver's seat. I checked my backpack and shifted things in it while the weigh station staff checked paperwork. It wasn't a long stop; we were back on the road in a few minutes.
It didn't take long to see the sign for I-15. Time to part ways. Time to say goodbye. Even though this ride lasted only two days, it was good for a lifetime of memories. Kayana gave me a bear hug and bid me Aloha. He threw down my backpack to Wiley who was already waiting by the side of the truck.
"I'm going to miss you. You're sweet and a lot of fun. And you taste good, too." An impish smile came into his eyes with the last remark. Have a safe trip." He pulled me close to him and gave me a deep, long-lasting kiss. It made me want to crawl back into the truck and stay safe with them but I knew I couldn't. Had to get on with my trip - and my life.
"Bye, thanks for everything. I'll always remember you, Dave." We kissed and hugged one last time. I watched as they pulled back onto the road. Kayana hung out the window and waved. I waved back. The horn blew three times and they were gone.
I slipped my arms through the straps on my backpack and stuck out my thumb. My mind started rewinding the video of the last two days but before
I even got to the cat lady in the orange Pinto, another trucker stopped to pick me up. Onward, to the next leg of my trip. I easily swung up in to the cab like an old pro and we were on our way. Geri and bikers and Elvis. Oh my!
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