Big Time Truckin': True Trucking Stories
Dispatch 23: Grey Sweats

by Kirk Gonnsen

There's a new Lot-lizard working the Columbus truckstop. It's mid-afternoon and she's been circling the rigs for half an hour, smiling, waving and knocking on cab doors. She's a plump little blonde, shaped like a bruised pear, dressed in a Blue Jacket's pullover and grey sweat pants. On a scale of one to ten, she's a three. But to the lonely, tired, desperate trucker, she's a six.

I notice there's a half dozen drivers watching the action. She meets and greets a couple of these guys on her rounds, they exchange some words, but no sale. I'm surprised to see her working in broad daylight. I guess she's a rookie, and maybe she's working the early shift on somebody else's turf. (I assume the night shift is more profitable.) A few minutes later she disappears between two fifty-three footers and then she's back, working the CB. "If anybody wants some 'hot sensual experiences,' go to channel 26."

"What do you look like, honey?"

"I'm real hot, baby."

"Did I see you up by the front row a few minutes ago?"

"I don't know."

"Are you the blonde in the grey sweat pants?"

"Are you the driver that's been playing hide-and-seek with me?"

"Not me, baby."

"Listen, some driver was looking for me, but now I can't find him."

Another driver jumps into the conversation. "Hey, Driver. Take a look at that face. It's all covered with zits. Boy, she's one ugly bitch."

I don't hear the Lot-lizard for the next five minutes (I assume she's bawling or drinking or getting high so she can block out the horror that is her life.)

I switch my CB to Dual-Scan. Now I can monitor channel 19 (the trucker's channel) and Channel 26 (the Lot-lizard's channel.) Several minutes pass and then she sends out another request for customers. One driver asks if she wants to take a shower. "You got to pay to play." She replies.

"How much?" he asks.

"I don't discuss that on the radio."

The two of them discuss the shower prospect for three or four minutes, going round and round, with no progress made on either side. Finally another driver pipes in. "Listen darling, I have to take a shower, make a phone call and take care of some business and then I'll take care of you."

"Where you going to be driver?"

"I'm the Bobtail at the fuel pumps. Just look for the bobcat sticker on the side window and come knocking in about half an hour."

"Ok, Driver. Ummmm, can you make it forty-five minutes?"

"Sure thing, darling."

I see this driver from where I'm sitting and he looks like he's just been released from prison. He's young, dirty, and chomping on a wad of tobacco. His bulging Popeye arms display several old-time tats.

I guess I'm happy she made a sale. But holy shit, this guy's gonna kill her. I know one thing. It sure makes my job seem a whole lot better. At least I get to wear jeans and nobody's ever going to fuck me in the ass.