For several years in the late 90's, I was an over the road truck driver. It was an interesting life, to say the least. While it was mostly a lot of driving, and sitting on loading docks for what could seem like days, there were some bright moments.
I was headed to my home terminal in Syracuse for time off, coming from eastern Massachusetts. This necessarily involved a trip over the Mass Pike, a drive I always enjoyed once I was west of Southbridge, where I 84 split to go into Connecticut, taking the Hartford and New York traffic with it. The ride over the Berkshires was always a scenic treat, especially in the fall, when the trees were a blaze of color. It almost made up for the ordeal of driving a truck in New England.
I was headed back to Syracuse from a pick up in Worcester that morning, and by early afternoon, maybe 1 PM, I was almost back in New York. I decided to stop for lunch at the last service plaza on the Mass Pike, just west of the Lee interchange. The next chance I'd get would not be til west of Albany on the Thruway, and I didn't want to wait that long. The plaza here at Lee had a Burger King, which was OK for road food. I pulled into the plaza, on past the fuel island, and parked.
Burger King wasn't busy; there were two people ahead of me. One was a blonde who appeared to be about 40. She looked the part of a sales/service rep, in her dress-for-success dark gray slacks and subdued pink blouse. Despite the career separates, she still cut an attractive figure. She was maybe 5'7", nice legs, what appeared to be C cup tits, which I could see a little of, along with a hint of white bra, as her top gapped when she turned around to see who had walked up behind her.
Our eyes met. "Hi," she said.
I smiled, not expecting any kind of greeting. "Hi," I said back.
"Another day on the road??" she asked. My company uniform shirt had obviously tipped her off to my occupation. I was driving for a well known carrier, whose trucks were everywhere.
I chuckled. "Yeah, just like almost all of them."
She laughed at that. "I hear ya," she said. I was always a little wary of people who wanted to make a comparison of their road life, even those who spent most of a week at a time living in hotels in an expansive sales territory, with my life of as much as a month at a time living in the back of a truck. Not to diminish their efforts-living away from home can be hard on people, even when they have the relative luxury of a warm bed and facilities they don't have to get dressed and go out in the cold to use; but their existence is still not anything close to the life I led as an over the road trucker.
I gave her a quick lookover. "Sales??" I asked.
"Yeah. I'm a rep for a pharmaceutical company. I'm on the road a lot, most days."
"What's your territory??"
"Western New England, mostly Vermont and a little Massachusetts and New Hampshire, and eastern New York, from the Saratoga area up to the Canadian border. It's a lot of turf."
"I'd say," I replied. "Not too many people, lots of trees and bears," I teased.
She laughed. "Exactly. But it's a lot of driving, Plattsburgh is a long way from anywhere, except maybe Burlington."
I laughed. I'd been to Plattsburgh any number of times. Georgia Pacific had a tissue mill there, and was a regular pick up for me. "True. I go up there on a semi regular basis, although, in my line of work, the farther, the better, since I get paid by the mile. Hate going there in the winter, though."
"No joke!! Sometimes I think it's the coldest place on Earth."
"You haven't been to Old Forge, have you??" I kidded. My mom had a vacation home there. Temperatures of minus 40-air temp, not wind chill-were not unheard of in the winter, though some places in the deep Adirondacks could get colder.
"Yes, I have," she said, laughing. "That place is cold enough to freeze a witch's tit."
I laughed, not expecting such a comment from someone who had just met me in a fast food line. "Yes, it is." I explained about my mom's house there. "I try to stay away from places like that in the winter. It doesn't always work out that way. Seems I go to Texas in the summer, Minnesota in the winter. I'm a 48 state driver, so in theory, I can go just about anywhere, though I tend to stay east of I 35 most of the time." She looked a litle puzzled. "I 35 runs from Duluth, Minnesota to Laredo, Texas, through Kansas City and Dallas."
"Must be an interesting life, driving a truck like you do." We moved up to the counter and put our orders in.
I sighed and smiled. "It's a life all its own. You have a pretty well defined area you travel in, and so do I. Mine is just a lot bigger." She laughed. "I also live in the back of truck, which is not exactly like staying in the Hampton every night."
"Well, not exactly the Hampton, or even Holiday Inn Express. Most of the time, it's somewhere a bit cheaper. The Hampton is a pretty good buck, more than my expense account will bear, but I see your point."
We got our food. "Mind if I join you??" she asked.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," I said. We repaired to a table out by the windows and settled in, unwrapping our gourmet selections, me a double whopper, she a chicken sandwich of some sort.
"I'm Anne, by the way," she said, offering her hand.
"Tom," I said, shaking hers. "So, where's home??"
"West Hartford, Connecticut."
"So how do you wind up going all over New England and the Adirondacks, so far from home??"
She munched a couple of fries. "Our regional headquarters is in Hartford. I'm still relatively new there, which is how I drew this plum assignment. The people who have been here longer get the closer in territories."
"Yeah, I get how that works. Gotta pay your dues, right??"
"Right. It sucks sometimes." Anne took a bite out of her chicken sandwich. "So, where's home for you??" she asked.
"Down near Elmira. I work out of Syracuse, which isn't too bad a drive. I know drivers who live way up in the North Country who have some real rides to get home from the yard."
"So you're almost home, then."