I have a greater respect for truckers now. I spent the day Saturday driving to Toronto with a heavy load in tow. The drive down was a transmission jolting, momentum monitoring, endeavour that I tried to pass off as easily as I could. Driving all that time trying to maintain speed you really start to miss that cruise control. It was the ride back that had me really going bonkers.
I was tired and the dull landscape was beginning to lull my mind. I was mesmerized by the ribbon of tar, patching cracks in the road, disappearing under my hood. The truck seemed to be gobbling it up like a fatty chugging chocolate syrup at a sundae bar. I followed an eighteen wheeler letting him break the wind to try and cut down on some of my fuel costs. I stopped and pick up road side grub. A greasy, quick, unsatisfying meal that I gulped down eagerly. It was the first real food I had in 12 hours not counting a melted chocolate egg offered up to me earlier. I gulped downing my over-sized cola and watched the sun turn landscape before me into every colour of orange, yellow and gold. At my second stop I scooped up coffee and noticed the same people stopped with me. Seems we were part of a metal covered wagon train, heading of to parts unknown. I wondered which one of us would die of dysentery. I began to think it would be me when I thought to use the men’s room. No, I can wait.
Back to the road with a gut full of grease, cola and coffee. My sphincter was tightly puckered as I hoped that I could make it another 200km to some semblance of civilization and a restroom that won’t smell like a pig farm’s waste lagoon. Once the sun set the white lines popped out like Atari Night Driver. I hated that game, there was a brief thought of plowing into one to see if it would cause a abrupt halt to my progression. Motivation was needed and there was none to be had.
I discovered that highway road signs are not nearly as helpful as they should be. Giving me my current position to places like Butt-Fuck Nowhere and Who Gives-a-Damn are really not encouraging. (110 and 57km respectively) Seriously what would the populations of those two soul crushing locals be? 1000 tops. Why the signs don’t offer up more helpful distance measurements I don’t know. Perhaps if I’m bored one day I’ll write off a nice queuery to the department of transportation.
Finally turning onto the north bound highway I found myself relieved to see the orange hued city approaching. I hate the burnt orange glow that city lights have. Saturday night was probably the only exception. It was the most relieved sight I have seen in some time. Parked, and comfortable in my apartment I cleaned myself up and consoled myself with alcohol.
