by Tom Molnar

It's getting dark fast. Duke turns his running lights on but since it's not really dark yet, he does not turn his headlights on. No need to waste all that power and sealed beam life.

* * *

Bud drives for Schneider International. He's in hog heaven. Somehow he's scored one of those brand new cool looking International 'hoods.' It's typical Schneider slow, but at least it's mega-comfortable cool slow.... Bud sees a truck coming toward him on the freeway. It's way past sundown and this guy hasn't turned his headlights on yet. Markers yes, but no headlights.

"Hey eastbound.......got it on?"

Nothing.

"Eastbound. Ya know you haven't got your headlights on there?"

Nothing. Oh well, Bud thinks. Some people just can't be helped. He turns the volume on his Tom Clancy book-on-tape back up and drives on down the road.

* * *

Above the din of his Smashing Pumpkins tape, Duke hears the voice on the CB telling him about his lights. He doesn't respond on the CB, but he glances at his dashboard, which is shining brightly. Can't be talking to me, Duke thinks. However, there's nobody in front of him, and after checking his mirror, sees that no one is behind him either. The passing truck disappears over the hill behind Duke. He takes a final drag on his stubby little Black Russian cigarette and tosses it out the vent window. It hits the ground in a flurry of sparks and comes to rest on the grassy shoulder. Not thinking that he could possibly have forgotten to turn his lights on, but wondering just the same, Duke reaches down and checks the headlight switch. Egads! The switch is pushed down, meaning only his parking lights are on. He quickly pulls up on the switch and feels two distinct clicks as he passes through the "OFF" position and into the headlight position. The road bursts into illumination in front of him. Damn, he thinks.

* * *

Joe drives for ConWay. He pulls triples along this stretch of the highway - five nights a week. He loves the run, and loves talk radio, particularly Art Bell. Tonight Art has a guest who says there are ruins on Mars. That earth's civilization started on Mars, was driven to destruction there, and migrated to earth. Joe is into Art Bell tonight. He sees miles and miles down the road that someone seems to be coming toward him - with their brights on. Not a big deal yet, but if they don't dim them soon, it's going to become a problem.

"....... And Art, your listeners will be fascinated to know that not only do I have proof of the ancient habitation of Mars, but we're beginning to find proof of this same astonishing revelation on one of the moons of Jupiter."

The lights are getting closer - and brighter. Joe decides the time has come to coax this oncoming vehicle, no doubt some ignorant four wheeler, into dimming its bright lights. He flicks his high beams on and off quickly. The offender is still a few miles down the road. No response. What's with this guy?, Joe ponders. He hits the high beams again, this time leaving them on for a full second. More than enough time to awaken this sleeper.

* * *

Duke has a picnic sized bag of Wavy Lays propped up against the jump seat on the floor. He's been dining from this bag for over an hour, savoring the flavor of these fat laden wonders. As he draws his latest handful, he hits the shifter and spills nearly the whole load on the floor.

"Damn!!", he yells out loud. He momentarily turns on the interior light to inspect the mess. He curses some more under his breath, then begins trying to pick up the big pieces, which he stuffs in his mouth.

"Somerverabish!" His bulging mouth makes everything Duke says completely unintelligible. "Althucrenunfomufun". He touches around on the floor, searching for all the big pieces. Suddenly the cab lights up for a second. Duke looks up and sees a truck coming at him in the oncoming lane. Moron, he thinks, and bends back down to retrieve the last of his scattered culinary delight.

* * *

Joe can't believe it's a 'big truck' coming at him, and still won't dim its lights. What's happened to this profession?, Joe wonders. He hits his brights again, this time leaving them on. The truck is now less than a half mile from him, and the lights are blinding. What a moron, Joe thinks.

"Art.... I don't think there's any question that pure stupidity doomed the Martian population back then. They did themselves in. Only a few managed to escape and repopulate the earth. These were the more intelligent of the species"

* * *

Duke's cab lights up like daytime, as he gropes for the last few morsels of his scattered dinner. The light actually helps him see a large chip leaning up against the shift boot. Thanks, he thinks. He picks the chip up off the floor, pops it in his mouth, savors the cheesy taste, and begins once again to watch where he's going.

"Ya idiot! Dim those $#@&^ &(%*~ brights!!"

The CB comes alive, startling Duke. He looks behind him and sees a truck slowly gaining on him several miles back. Good thing that guy going the other way got that fool behind me to dim his lights before they became a problem, Duke thinks. As he drives on, he reflects on how he took the time to polish his headlights when he fueled up earlier in the day. It really makes a difference at night. Just look at how nice and bright the roadway looks out front now..........

* * *

Sherry drives for Mau Trucking out of Iowa. She's been on the road for two years now, and loves it. Loves it! With two safe years behind her, she now considers herself a professional. As she rounds the wide curve, the headlights coming at her are beginning to become a bother. They're bright, and they're blinding. She quickly flashes her brights.......

* * *

Duke carefully places his coffee cup on the floor and begins to pour a cup of steaming brew from his Stanley 'no-spill' insulated jug. Once again he's looking at the floor instead of out the window. He carefully avoids spilling any of the life sustaining liquid, but it takes his full concentration. The cab lights up like day as an oncoming truck hits Duke with bright lights. Don't tell me that moron behind me has his brights on again, Duke thinks. He stops pouring long enough to check his mirror. Ah good, he's turned them back off. What's happening to this profession anyway?

* * *

Sherry directs her attention to the fog line to keep her truck on the road and prevent temporary blindness from the oncoming bright lights. She grabs her microphone and shouts loudly.

"Thanks a lot, eastbound! Nice brights!"

* * *

Duke hears the woman's voice complaining about brights and comes to her aid.

"Right on, lady," he growls. "There sure are a lot of non-driving idiots out here aren't there!"

Pleased with himself, Duke hangs his mike up and takes a sip of his freshly poured coffee.

* * *

Ed brings his Dick Simon rig up to speed as he re-enters the freeway westbound from a quick pit stop on a desolate off ramp. As he comes to the top of the rise on his get-on ramp, he's blinded by some sun bright high beams on the eastbound side. He quickly flicks his high beam switch to remind the oncoming driver...........................

* * *

Unfortunately Art, my research seems to indicate that actually, there's no hope for humanity here on earth today.......