by Tom Molnar

Duke is sitting in his favorite chair at his favorite table in his favorite corner of the driver lounge area. He likes this corner because he can see everyone who comes in the door. Duke wants to know everything that's going on all the time. He's sipping on a cup of coffee machine coffee, which, if there's no other conversations going on, is always a good ice breaker for a topic of complaint, and complaining is Duke's forte. Along with the customary cup of coffee, Duke also used to smoke one of his six dollar a pack Sobranie Black Russian cigarettes as well, but since they passed the no smoking laws he's stuck with just the coffee. And since only weenies go outside to smoke, he grits his teeth and lives with it. He knows he'll make up for it later when he's in the truck.

Today, however, there's lots of conversation going on. Jimmy, a relative 'old timer' at B.S. Trucking, is relating how he got a ticket for one of his converter dolly safety chains dragging on the ground.

"Man, I just don't know what happened. I could have sworn they were both hooked up. I remember looking at them before I left. In fact, I even did one of them there three hour inspections about an hour before that cop stopped me. I didn't see anything wrong. But then it was also 2am and dark as hell. Boy, that guy had no sense of humor".

Duke lets his empty paper coffee cup slap the table with a loud 'crack', garnering some attention from the conversation which up to now was centered at the other end of the room.

"Jimmy, you're a damned idiot", Duke offers as he pushes his cowboy hat up a bit with his finger, more completely revealing his wrap around sunglasses. The conversation stops and everyone turns to see what other gems Duke has to offer. He does not disappoint....

"How can anyone not see his safety chains aren't hooked up? Why, that's a basic! That's as bad as taking off with your landing gear down, or leaving the yard with one headlight burned out. I'll bet you never even check your turn signals or stop lights." Duke looks down at the table and slowly (for effect) shakes his head back and forth. "You guys crack me up", he continues. "I would expect that from one of our fine lady drivers, but not you, Jimmy. It's up to us old timers to show these women and newbies what to do, not what not to do. Jeez, you ever hear that old saying about how it only takes one Oh Shit to wipe out a dozen Attaboys? Well, you can kiss five years of Attaboys good-bye with that ticket. I'm not going to let you sit next to me for a month for that bone headed stunt."

With that, Duke gets up, struts over to the coffee machine, and punches up another cup with extra cream and sugar. He hears the sound of under-the-breath mumbling coming from the other side of the room. Duke is sure they're commenting on how right he is. Reality would prove Duke to be just a bit off in his assessment.

As Duke sits down with his fresh cup of coffee he makes one last comment.

"No sir, not me. I check everything before I leave. Everything!"

* * * * *

Later that night about five hours down the road, Duke is grooving to one of his favorite Barry Manilow tapes. He's already stopped at Bubba's truck stop for his first coffee, and flirting with Diane, the waitress. He's also stopped at Dead Duck's truck stop. Here he had coffee and pie, and of course, the usual flirting with the waitress. As he floats along about 65, with the cruise control giving him the freedom to tap his feet to the beat, Duke snaps his fingers and sings along to Barry's hit song, "Mandy".

"Happy people pass my way", he sings as a car passes on his left. "Looking in their eyes, I see a memory".... Duke is mellow. The world is right and life is good. "I never realized how happy you made me, Oh Mandy......"

Duke drags deeply on his Black Russian cigarette, exhaling the smoke towards the open vent window. The hand holding the cigarette is also holding the steering wheel which results in ashes tumbling down to the floor about every mile or so because of road vibration. Some of the ashes fall on Dukes well polished boot. The full moon illuminates the road and miles of surrounding area.

Suddenly the engine coughs and momentarily seems to quit, them resumes normal operation.

"What the hell.....", Duke says out loud. "What's wrong with the cruise?"

He automatically reaches for the cruise switch to make sure it didn't somehow get shut off. Impossible, of course, but he doesn't know what else to do. About a half a mile farther and it does it again. This time the engine coasts a bit more before starting back up.

"What thu...?" Duke looks in the mirror and sees nothing. He checks all his gauges. Temperature and oil pressure are fine. Air in system is all at about 120 psi. Battery is charging. It's got to be a problem with the cruise control. He switches it off and puts his foot on the accelerator pedal, pushing it to the floor.

There, he thinks. I feex!

A moment later the engine just quits and Duke is coasting at 60. 55. 50. He looks in the mirror again. He checks the shoulder for room to stop. Lots of room. He enters the shoulder and begins braking to a stop, pulling well right of the fog line.

A passing trucker pulls into the left lane and asks Duke on the CB; "You Ok there driver?"

"Yeah", Duke says. "I've just got to check out something with my cruise control. Thanks."

"Just checking", the passing driver says.

Once stopped, Duke begins to try starting the engine. It cranks and cranks and gives no indication that it even wants to start. Not even a sputter.

"Damn", Duke says out loud. "What the hell is wrong with this thing?

He puts his four-way blinkers on and gets out. Not knowing what to do, he opens the hood. Everyone opens the hood when there's engine trouble, even though most have no clue what they're looking at or for. He finds no wires dangling, no hoses blown, no obvious parts missing or broken. Everything looks as it should. He climbs back into the cab. Duke is flummoxed.

"You all right there, northbound?", a voice inquires over the CB. A truck rushes by in the opposite direction.

"I'm not sure", replies Duke. "I think there's something wrong with my cruise control. I was driving along on cruise when suddenly it just quit. Now I can't even get the damned thing to start."

"You got fuel?", the passing driver asks in a joking manner.

"Hell yeah!", Duke retorts. "Naw, there's something else going on here."

"Ya want me to call someone for you?", the driver asks.

"Thanks driver", Duke says, "but I don't think that's necessary. I'll figure this out in a few minutes. Thanks anyway."

Duke climbs back out of the cab and shines his flashlight on the silent engine. He hears the creaks and cracks of a cooling diesel. What the hell is wrong?, he wonders. He checks the coolant level window. Lots of the yellow fluid visible. He pulls out the dip stick and checks the oil. Plenty of oil. He bends over and looks under the engine for dripping or leaking fluids of any kind. Nothing.

"Damn!"

The reflection of the headlights of a passing car bounce off the fuel tank and catch Duke's attention.

No, not that. No no no. It can't be. Duke doesn't believe he could be out of fuel. He checked it before he left........ didn't he? No way. He dismisses the out-of-fuel scenario as impossible. No, there's some electrical problem here, or maybe the fuel pump is broken. Or maybe it is the cruise control. These damned computer driven trucks are always having trouble. Duke always said he'd rather have an old fashioned driver controlled truck anytime. Nope, fuel wasn't the problem.

Still, that was the first question that passing driver had asked. "Ya got fuel?" Duke didn't want to think about it. It couldn't be. He couldn't have succumbed to the stupidest of mistakes a driver could make. Not Duke.

He lit up a Black Russian and pulled out his emergency triangles, placing them at the proper intervals to the rear of his ailing rig. In the back of his mind Duke is thinking about fuel. He doesn't want to open the tanks and look in. He knows there's plenty of fuel, so what's the point? However, on his way back from placing the last triangle, he decides to open the fuel tank on the rider side of the truck (so no one can see him even looking....). He slowly twists the cap off, lays it on the catwalk, and shines his flashlight in. He can barely see in from all the mist floating out. Duke tries to blow the smoke-like mist away so he can see better but to no avail. His light shines a beam into the mist but reveals nothing. Can't be. He blows and blows into the opening, finally allowing him to see almost down to the bottom. Down to the bottom? On no, not that! The light can now shine all the way to the bottom of the tank where the fuel pick-up is and the fuel heater pipe crosses. He kicks the tank to produce ripples. There are ripples, but it's hard to tell how far down they are. But one thing's for sure...... The fuel is no where near the top. Maybe it's just the right side tank out of fuel. Duke walks around the other side and when he's sure no one is coming he opens that fuel tank and shines his light in.

"Damn!!!" Duke sees a carbon copy of the other tank. Nope, the truth is, the ugly truth is, he's out of fuel. He's run the tractor out of fuel out here on the road in the middle of nowhere. He has committed the ultimate sin. He's run the damned truck completely out of fuel and he's not sitting in the fuel aisle of a truck stop. In fact, there's no truck stops or anything for 20 or more miles in either direction. Great........

Duke climbs back into the cab just as the CB comes alive again. It's a familiar voice.

"Hey Duke, is that you?", the voice says. It's Jimmy, the driver who got the ticket for having a safety chain dragging. "What's wrong? You need some help?"

Duke clenches his teeth and slams his fist into the dashboard. "Damn!", he says out loud. Of all the people to come along.

"Uhh, yeah Jimmy, it's me. This old beast overheated on that last hill. I'm just letting it cool off for a bit. Nice time to eat my brown bag lunch too. Nothing serious. Thanks for asking though." Duke hopes Jimmy will just go on by.

"Want me to call dispatch for ya?", Jimmy asks.

"That's all right, Jimmy. Thanks, but I think it will be fine in a little bit. No need to waste any of your time."

"Ok Duke, good luck", Jimmy says as he disappears down the road. A few seconds of silence follow, then Jimmy speaks up again in that faded tone of a CB getting out of range. "Hey Duke, you ought to see the new chick they hired! She just started tonight. What a knockout!"

Who cares about chicks at a time like this, Duke thinks.

* * * * *

Duke sits on the ground for a good half hour with his back up against the rearmost drive tire, chain smoking and tying to decide what to do. He can't call dispatch with this dilemma! He'll be a laughing stock for sure. Not to mention the serious trouble he'll be in. Reprimands, letters in his file, loss of credibility, chastisement, and worst of all, loss of face.

"DAMN!!!"

An approaching truck appears to be slowing. In fact, it pulls up behind him and puts on its four ways as the sound of its parking brakes being applied interrupt the night silence. Maybe it's time Duke address his problem and begin the process of getting help. As he sees the shadow of a driver coming around from the rear of his trailer Duke stands up. To his surprise, it's a woman. A slender blonde women in a very neat cowboy outfit complete with hat and boots.

"You must be Duke", she says as she nears Duke. She extends her hand for a handshake and adds, "I'm Roxie. Tonight's my first night with B.S.. Another driver passed me going the other way and told me one our trucks was broke down up here. I thought I'd stop and see if I can help".

Duke is dumbfounded. Almost speechless. She is a knockout. He grabs her hand and shakes it, introducing himself and thanking her for stopping. He's about to tell her the same story he told Jimmy when Roxie speaks up.

"You out of fuel?", she asks as she points to the fuel cap laying on the catwalk?

Damn! Busted! His head drops down as he takes in a deep breath. He looks back up at Roxie, saying nothing at first. A second or two pass and finally.....

"Yeah. Can you believe it? I can't. I've never done this in over 20 years. I thought I checked it before I left. Someone must have driven it when I didn't know or something. Anyway, yes, I'm out of fuel. Damn it!"

Roxie gives Duke a sympathetic look.

"Look", she says. "This can happen to anyone. It's a lot worse when your ego gets caught up in it though. Tell you what. I've got a siphon hose and a filter wrench if you don't. I'll unhook from my trailer, pull up here next to you, and transfer some fuel - enough for you to get to the next fuel stop. We'll get you going, and I promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone. You can buy me lunch sometime. Deal?"

Duke can't believe his ears. Normally, any other B.S. driver would be glad to help him out in a situation like this, and then blab it to anyone and everyone, never letting him live it down. Not only is this driver going to help him, but she promises not to tell anyone. And, she's a woman. Boy, if she only knew how often he's badmouthed women drivers. Never again! Duke's going to turn over a new leaf. From now on, women drivers rule!

"Deal," Duke says. "I'll buy you breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week!"

Roxie laughs and adds, "No need for that, Duke. One lunch is fine. Now let's get you going before anyone else comes along."

Duke looks Roxie in the eye and says, "Ya know, I like your style. I hope I can repay the favor some day."

As Roxie turns to walk back to her rig, Duke hears Barry on his stereo as he croons "So glad you opened my door. Come with me, somewhere in the night we will go......."

I've always said women were good for trucking, Duke thinks as he watches Roxie walking away.