by Tom Molnar

There’s trouble in the dispatch office at B.S. Trucking tonight. It seems a new hire is scheduled to start and the driver normally designated as the ‘training driver’ has called in sick. This presents a problem because there are only two drivers left to be dispatched. Soupy and Duke. Soupy got his nickname because it’s been deemed that his brain turned to soup years ago during the sixties, so he’s out. This leaves Duke - NOT normally the company’s first choice.

* * * * *

The door to the driver’s room swings open and in swaggers Duke Slade, complete with his mirrored sunglasses, cowboy hat, and Sobranie Black Russian cigarette hanging from his lip.

"Have no fear… Duke Slade is here!", says the self proclaimed ‘coolest truck driver in the world’.

Duke’s cowboy boots click loudly on the tiled floor as he saunters over to the coffee machine, drops fifty cents in and presses the EXTRA button for both sugar and cream. Duke used to drink his coffee like a man - straight black, but recently discovered, as he calls it, taste. As the cup fills, Duke is talking in the direction of the dispatch.

"Hey you guys…. Get me out of here soon, eh? I’ve got a feeling I’m going to score with Mitz tonight at Bubba’s. She’s been getting real friendly lately and I know she wants to go out with me".

"Uh, Duke?" The dispatcher walks over to the glass and looks at Duke. "Come on over, will ya"

Duke reaches down for his coffee. The cigarette in his hand catches the edge of the opening causing the ash to drop off, right into the coffee. Duke doesn’t even notice, since he’s looking at the dispatcher, and the ash sinks to the bottom.

"Here I come. Do either of you guys want a coffee?" Duke is feeling generous since he’s feeling lucky….

The dispatcher ignores the question and gets right to the point.

"Duke", he says, looking down at the packet of paperwork and not at Duke. "We’ve got a problem here tonight and we need your help."

"Wait a minute", Duke says. "I smell trouble. You guys NEVER want my help - for anything."

"The problem is", the dispatcher says as he looks up at Duke and continues, "that Murphy is sick tonight and we’ve got a new driver starting. As you know, Murphy always takes the new guys out. The new hire is here tonight, Murphy is not, and you’re our man."

Duke has the coffee cup up to is lips as he hears the news. He quickly puts the cup down on the counter.

"Oh no you don’t!" Duke shows the expected reaction. "You ain’t sending ME out with some greenhorn. That’s not my job. No sir. I don’t know nuthin’ about training - and don’t WANT to know nuthin’ about training. Find yourself another boy. I ain’t doin’ it. What’s wrong with Soupy?"

"Duke, you know what’s wrong with Soupy. Nope, you’re our only choice."

The dispatcher picks up the paperwork in both hands, lets it drop to the counter as if to even up the stack, and repeats this action several times.

"Ya gotta know Duke, that if there was anyone else, we’d send this guy with them. You’ve GOT to know that!"

The dispatcher is dead honest in his statement. Who in their right mind would send a new guy out with the likes of Duke?

* * * * *

"Here’s where you sign out", Duke mumbles under his breath. "Just do what I do, only change the name. Got it?" He glances up at the driver.

Duke scribbles his name on the sign out sheet, jots down his tractor and trailer number, and almost sprints out the door. New hire Rick almost has to run to keep up. No time to check the sign out sheet to see what Duke did.

Outside, Duke scurries to his truck where he tosses the papers in the driver’s door. They splay out on the floor. He grabs his ‘tire bopper’ and begins the perfunctory pre-trip. The Cry Sheet has a check list of almost three dozen items that must be checked before departing. Duke hurriedly shuffles his way around the truck attempting to hit each of the tires to check air pressure. Some he hits, some he doesn’t.

"Gee Duke, you missed that inside one back there", Rick says.

"SO!"

Duke climbs up into the driver’s seat and buckles up. "I hate these things", he says.

He lights up another of his Black Russian cigarettes, grinds the transmission into gear, and lurches forward.

"Let’s go", he says.

Rick is still trying to find one end of his seat belt. He’s got the end with the buckle in one hand but can’t locate the other end.

"Duke, there is another end on this thing isn’t there?"

"Yeah. It’s there somewhere. Just keep looking. I didn’t cut it off or anything."

* * * * *

A while down the road as Duke is lighting up yet another cigarette, he looks over at Rick.

"So, what’s your name again?"

"It’s Rick, Duke".

"Ok Rich. I hope you don’t mind my smoking. It’s my truck, my run, and my business. If it’s a problem for you then it’s going to be a long night."

Duke flicks his ash at the partially opened vent window. It misses the opening and drops to the floor where it joins a growing pile of ashes from previous misses. Some of the ash resides on the top of Duke’s cowboy boot. Duke either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

"Not a problem Duke. You’re right about the run and the truck. It’s your business and I’m just here as an observer. Oh, and it’s Rick, not Rich."

"Sorry. Rick."

Duke picks up his official Bubba’s Truck Stop coffee mug and takes a swig.

"You stop at Bubba’s truck stop?", Rick asks.

"Yeah. How’d you know?"

"Well, cuz you can’t buy those mugs at Sears", Rick replies.

Smart ass. That’s all I need, Duke thinks.

"Yeah, I do whenever I get this run. There’s a chick working there I like. I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me and I think she’s almost ready to bite", Duke explains. "Here, make a copy of my pay sheet so you’ve got something to work off of when you make yours out. Just make sure you use your own driver number and name. Duh…"

As Rick takes Duke’s pay sheet, Duke flicks his cigarette butt out the vent window. It hits the pavement in a shower of sparks.

A voice comes over the CB…. "Hey driver. Don’t you know it’s fire season? Man, you could set the whole state on fire like that. Why don’t you use a Coke can to……."

Duke reaches up and shuts the CB off.

"Mind your own @&#%^$ business", he says.

* * * * *

Time passes and Duke finally looks over at Rick.

"So Rich, how’d you happen to end up here at B.S.?"

"Rick. I got laid off over at Jackpot Produce. I just started going up and down all the streets and putting in applications anyplace that had drivers. B.S. was one of the first that called me."

"Who else called you?", Duke inquires.

"Statewide Beer Distributors", Rick says. "It sounded like a good deal but I didn’t want to be around the temptation."

Duke smiled and snickered a bit. Wow. Imagine working for a beer distributor. That’s like working in heaven! "Yeah, know what you mean."

* * * * *

Duke begins to coast as they approach the off ramp leading to Bubba’s Truck Stop. Rick speaks up.

"Hey, are we going to stop at Bubba’s?"

"No, I’m just going to park in front and wet a tire. Then we’re leaving….." Duke gives Rick a frowning look and follows with, "Yes we’re going to stop. What do you think I’m getting off here for?"

"Cool", says Rick

Cool? COOL? Man, this is going to be a long night. Duke shakes his head.

Duke pulls up in one of the open fuel islands and shuts down.

"Is this a designated fuel stop?", Rick asks.

"Hell no!", Duke retorts. "I just don’t want to walk all that way back from the parking lot. We’re only going to be here maybe a half hour or so. No big deal. There’s lots of empty lanes left. C’mon."

As they walk towards the building, Rick looks back and sees three more trucks come in - and line up at the fuel islands.

* * * * *

As the pair opens the door and walks in, a cute young waitress turns around, sees them and gets a big grin on her face. She immediately heads quickly in their direction - arms outstretched.

"You didn’t tell me you were coming!", she shouts out.

Duke is shocked. He’s never gotten this kind of reception before. Maybe Mitz wants to go out with him worse than he thought. He lifts one arm to get ready to put it around her. She rushes right past him and wraps her arms around Rick.

"Hiya Mitz", Rick says. "Long time, no see".

Duke is speechless. What the hell is this?

After the hugs are over, Rick says "Duke, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Mitz. Mitz, this is my friend Duke."

A smile comes over Duke. "Uh, nice to meet you Mitz", Duke jokes.

"Same to you, Mr. Slade", Mitz says.

Duke is the first to speak. "Rich didn’t tell me you were cousins. What a surprise".

"We almost grew up together", she says. "Rick and I are like brother and sister. Buddies even…. Here, let me get you guys a table. Boy, this is great!"

Mitz leads Duke and Rick to a booth and leaves to get them some coffee. She glances out the window and notices that several trucks are lined up at the fuel island waiting for slots at the pumps.

Duke sits straight up in the booth. He pulls out a cigarette, then puts it back.

"This stuff obviously bothers you so I’ll curb it tonight. I hate to make people suffer." Duke smiles and puts the pack back into his shirt pocket. Instead, he grabs a toothpick and puts it in his mouth. "Boy, imagine that. Mitz’s cousin."

Mitz brings back the coffee, pours them each a cup, than asks if they want anything besides coffee.

"Go ahead and order something Rich, er, Rick. I’m sorry. I’ll get that straight. Get whatever you want. It’s on me. I always like to make new people feel at home at B.S."