Frantically, the cop waved his flashlight, trying to get out of the way of the SUV that was sliding on the snow covered highway; but he was no more able to move than Kenny Sutherland was able to stop. Miraculously, milliseconds before squashing the police officer against his car, the SUV finally came to a halt..
Despite the brilliant, triple-coloured, flashing lights, atop the patrol car, parked across the highway, it had been impossible for Ken to see it.
Kenny was a complete, emotional wreck when the officer, not in much better shape, appeared at the window.
"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Kenny repeated, over, and over.
"Take it easy, sonny, it's ok," the officer said, forgivingly, "It wasn't your fault. You probably think I wasn't too bright, setting myself up like that, in the first place, but that sudden, gale-force wind blew the snow into this blinding blizzard."
"Oh, my God," Kenny lamented, again, I almost killed you."
"C'mon now, kid, try to pull yourself together, it's all cool, now, except, you won't be able to go on; the highway, north of here has already been closed...There's a truck stop about a quarter mile back; turn right onto the first crossroad." The officer directed.
"Thanks a lot and, by the way, If you're going to stay out here, it might be a good idea to stand on the other side of your car."
"Don't worry, sonny, they'll be sending a snowmobile to get me; no point in my staying here, now."
Kenny didn't get far before his four-wheel-drive SUV became, impossibly, stuck.
It took him the better part of two hours before he staggered into the small diner. The power was out; thus, the reason he'd had trouble finding the place. it was, indeed, small, with only a four-seat counter and four, tiny tables. Several oil lamps, supplemented by a scattering of candles, provided light. An older woman, behind the counter, slowly rocked in her chair, letting the man take care of the crowd of one. "Sorry, we can't offer you much of a menu, under these circumstances." said the man.
"Can I get a cup of coffee?"
"Sure. Here, take this," he said, setting a lighted candle in hot wax on a saucer, "an' go on over to a table," he said,pointing towards the back of the room, "I'll bring it to you, boy, yer lookin' like yer 'bout ready to drop."
Ken pondered where he'd go if the diner closed. But he decided he'd worry about that when the the time came.
"Ain't never, in my life seen such a heavy snow storm...we never had no inklin' it was acomin'," the man said, placing the coffee mug on the table.
"Nobody knew," ken agreed, "They didn't say a thing about it on the radio...I listened to the forecast just before leaving Montreal."
"Yep, strange, sure enough, ya think it's that global warmin' they're all talkin' about, young man?" He asked, seeming to be quite concerned about it.
"No, I don't! I think global warming's a scare tactic that's somehow gonna fill a lot of pockets, if you really want my opinion."
"Naught we can do about it nohows," if ya want mine," he said, laughing. He started back to the lunch bar and almost collided with another candle-carrying guy.
"Scuse me, my old eyes ain't even much good in the daylight, no more," the older man apologized.
The young guy, who had probably been in the washroom, placed his candle next to Ken's on the table. "Mind if I join you; two candles are better than one," he remarked, and taking Ken's okay for granted, retrieved his coffee from another table. Ken was more than happy to have a cute guy, probably, close to his own age, to pass the time with.
"My name's Kurt," he said, offering his hand.
"I'm Ken...where ya from?"
"Practically everywhere," Kurt replied, smiling broadly, "I have my tractor out there," he said, pointing to a monstrous truck, "I'm on the road most of the time, but my official address is, Kelowna, B.C. What about you?"
"Montreal...Probably be there for some time, yet," Ken went on to explain, "I'm a first year medical student at McGill...I'll be specializing in Psychiatry, so I guess I'll be there for another ten years. My home, like, where my parents live is Albany, New York... Have you always been a trucker, Kurt?"
"Ahh, let me see, I completed my driving course when I was eighteen...that makes it five years, I'm twenty-three."
"How does your wife feel about you being away, so much?" Ken asked, fishing.
"Oh, I'm not married; I'm too young," Kurt said, smiling.
"Don't you get lonely...if you know what I mean?" Ken asked, smiling like a conspirator ally."
"Not really," Kurt replied, smiling, "I'm quite handy, actually. By the way, how old are you?"
"I'm afraid to say...You're gonna think I'm a child, compared to you...I'm eighteen."
"Do you need your diaper changed, yet?" Kurt laughed, but Ken became excited by his mental image of Kurt putting a diaper on him. He wondered if Kurt had noticed.
"Why, do ya smell something?" Ken asked, causing Kurt to sniff, exaggeratedly.
The storm hadn't moderated and that reawakened Ken's concern about what happens if the diner closes. That combined with the fact the man was extinguishing some of the candles; of course, that may have been a conservation effort.
"Hey, Kurt, what happens if we get thrown out of here, do you think they'd put us out in the cold?"
