My wife and I, who collaborate to write these stories, are not Winn and Will. They are not real people. While real headlines and events may be referenced for setting, our stories depict FICTIONAL events and people, and ALL characters involved in sexual situations are consenting adults.
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BUMPY START
HONNNNNK HONNNNNNNNNNK!
The girl sitting in the back row cracked a huge smile and started talking animatedly to the other occupants of the minivan, her arm still pumping in the window. It was the sign known to big rig drivers all across the United States of America - "Honk the horn!"
Winn grinned at the girl in the neighboring vehicle, amused by the reaction. Her husband, Will, sat next to her, observing. "Look at you, breaking down stereotypes and shit. You're a modern-day Rosie the Riveter."
"No, I'm not. Plenty of women drive big rigs these days. It's not even a stereotype anymore. Wasn't your friend's mom Lari a trucker?"
"The fact that she stands out to you proves my point. Plus, how many other Droppers are women?"
"Droppers" was one of the more work-appropriate nicknames the group gave themselves. These 50 or so Class C licensed drivers paired up and bid on contracts to drive a new Recreational Vehicle (RV) to its destination somewhere in North America. Droppers drove in shifts, from a day to 3 weeks, from the Midwest where these motorhomes were manufactured. After delivering these vehicles to the dealerships or individuals who purchased them, they headed to the airport and hopped the next available flight back home, where they waited at the motor pool for the next round of bids.
Winn and Will were two of the more "traditional" contractors. Meeting after high school and marrying four years later at 22 and 24, respectively, they decided to put off having a family due to the fallout from the Great Recession. Only now, approaching their sixth anniversary, were they finally making enough money to finally feel comfortable.
Droppers were able to pick up contracts from the big manufacturers for about 8 months out of the year, before these opportunities were snapped up by "Corpses." Corpses were salaried employees for the manufacturers that switched from the assembly line to the southern interstates during the winter, delivering 4-season vehicles to sunnier climates than Michigan and Indiana. Will had thought of the nickname himself while stoned one night and was quite proud of it.
"I'm about ready for this Drop to be over. I've got a headache from this fucker. It hums so much, you could tune a damn piano with it. Why don't they ever listen to our feedback? Same problem for the last 15 model years. Resonant frequency, or something. It would take, like, four little wooden ribs to fix it." He stabbed four fingers in the air to accentuate his point.
"Uh-huh." Winn wasn't really listening. Her husband tended to get a bit ranty after eating edibles. They had been driving through Colorado on "Friday" (the last driving day of the trip), and Will wouldn't be needed to drive until more than four days later. Giggling like schoolgirls, they had scurried out of the dispensary with a small roll of gummies. It still felt naughty, years after becoming legal.
"I just don't understand why someone would pay so much for what amounts to essentially window dressing on a semi," he continued, gesticulating wildly as he watched the snowy Rocky Mountain horizon pass by. "I mean, it's got hardly any windows, but fuck if it doesn't have 5 slide-outs." Slide-outs were the boxlike compartments that extended from the "semi," as Will called it. They only slid out when the Class A RV was parked, because the whole vehicle would be over 18 feet wide!
"Uh-huh."
"I mean, a quarter million dollars! What's it, like," he flicked his fingers up and down absent-mindedly with his feet on the dashboard, "a $2700 payment for a decade? Holy shit! What do these people DO?"
"I dunno, honey."
"I mean, it's fun to drive and all, even not being able to use the... luxurious amenities." At this, he dropped his chin and spoke in the baritone voice that Winn loved so much. But she was focused on the road, and he was only rewarded with a light chuckle.
Droppers were only allowed to use the electrical appliances in the vehicles they delivered, since liquids - gasoline, propane (LP), and water - would have to be added to use anything else. It wasn't dangerous to travel with these fluids, but the RV manufacturers weren't about to spend extra money on fuel to carry them across the Western Hemisphere.
Winn turned her head to face Will while keeping her eyes on the road. "Hey, wanna warm me up?" She hoped the brief distraction would slow his roll.
"Sure. R-dubs." Before grabbing her travel mug and swiveling to walk to the back where the microwave was located, Will leaned forward to kiss his wife on the cheek.