Just so you don't think that trucking is always full of fun things like dressing up a stuffed rabbit as
Liberace, ripping off insect
legs, or being attacked by
fish in Florida, I bring you:
The Day That Went On Too Long.
It all started out like a normal day. We unloaded in the early afternoon and were ready for our next load, with plenty of hours left in the day to run.
We waited. And waited. And waited some more for our next load. Freight has been slow, so we made use of our time: Himself lubed the chassis, changed the fuel filter and built a barn. I did a photo-shoot of Liberace Rabbit and Meow Meow posing in different parts of the truck.
 |
Himself building a barn or something.
We have different ideas of
spending time wisely. |
Several hours later, our next load came in and we headed out to pick it up, in the cornfields west of Chicago. The directions to the shipper were written by someone who just flew in from Bizarro World, where left turns are really right turns and north is south. The fun thing about going in the wrong direction in a semi with a 53 foot trailer, is that you have to go miles and miles out of the way before you can turn around.
We made it to the shipper in the early evening, after going 40 miles out of the way, only to find that they couldn't load us until the next day, they were running behind.
There were no truck stops within 7.3 thousand miles, which meant no shower. This would have been enough to ruin my day, since I would rather tell David Hasselhof that I'm his biggest fan, than go to bed without a shower.
But wait! There's more!
We found a quiet place to park behind a grocery store near a big field, and within walking distance to a nice restaurant. We had a lovely dinner, a pleasant walk with Jas through the neighborhood, and then washed up in the grocery store bathroom. Not ideal but eleventy times better than a port-a-potty. We'd made the best of things.
Fast forward to midnight. I woke up to Jas hacking, smacking and generally sounding sick and pitiful, so I got up, dressed, and took her outside. She ate grass for fifteen minutes, threw up some and we got back in the truck.
She drank a gallon a water and settled back down on the passenger seat instead of her bed. The windows were open about half-way to let in the cool night air and we figured it felt good to her too, after being sick.
 |
Jas in my seat.
Her bed tucks into the space
on the floor in front. |
We were all awake by then but we eventually got back to sleep, only to be woken up again at 3 am to a loud noise.
Himself turned on the light. Jas was gone.
I looked out my window from the top bunk and saw her, going around in circles and called to her. I thought she was having a seizure. And then I saw something furry with her and in my sleep fuzzy mind I wondered, why was she dancing with a cat?
And then I woke up.
Oh crap. She had a cat. In her mouth. They were not dancing.
Himself threw on pants and shoes and jumped out of the truck and onto Jas to wrestle her free from the cat.
Jas and the cat had reached an agreement by that point: Jas agreed to run around in panicked circles while the cat agreed to attach itself to Jas's face with its teeth. Once Himself got involved and held Jas down with his body weight, the cat kindly agreed to let go of Jas's face.
Jas, not being the brightest knife in the drawer, tried to go after the cat again, but by that time I was helpful, and we both managed to get Jas back in the truck before the cat ate all our faces off.
 |
| "I won, right?" |
I got the flashlight and went back to make sure the cat was ok but it was gone; all I found was a pile of fur. I think I heard it snickering contemptuously in the distance.
Jas was bloody and smelled of cat pee. We cleaned her up and checked her wounds; they were all superficial, except for a new hole in her ear which we drenched in peroxide. She drank another gallon of water and then slept like a baby, secure in the knowledge that she showed that cat what was what.
Because in her mind, she *totally* won. And would launch herself out the window like a demented ninja again if given the chance.
Himself and I didn't fall into such a peaceful sleep, however.
Surprisingly, adrenaline, the smell of cat pee in a small space where the windows are closed, and anticipation of having our face ripped off by an indestructible super-cat is not the best recipe for a good night's sleep.
Unless you're a demented ninja, of course.
