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Show we had to stop for a variety of reasons, and those stops would often give us experiences definitely defi-nitely worth writing about. Our company had terminals across the country offering a suitable place to wait for a load, change out a trailer, or get the truck serviced. And then there were waiting places, basically empty, where trucks laid over until a load was found. One such place was in Kearns, New Jersey, and' each time we neared the area, we prayed for a speedy reload. Located on the river, this parking lot could only be entered en-tered by passing through what looked to be a highly toxic, chemical waste disposal facility with skull and crossbones on the barrels. It glowed. Honestly, there was a greenish luminosity in and around, the. river, which was dirtier than Utah Lake and filled with debris that wouldn't move downstream. The workers in this suspicious business were completely covered in spacelike space-like suits worn for the express purpose of protecting one from poisons or other deadly toxins. And this was only feet from our waiting yard - that glowed. We stayed in our truck, partly to keep our space and mostly out of fear of being gassed by the neighboring chemical plant. Other choice rest stops were found in Florida where they employed armed guards to patrol the area. You would think one would have a sense of security if they were being "protected" by an agent with a pistol at the ready, but the very fact that it was necessary to have such lawmen, made our stays in these areas rather tense. Besides, an armed guard sitting in a lawn chair under an umbrella, um-brella, hardly elicits a feeling of security. "Granny" continued on Page 7 The journey was definitely the most important aspect of our daily driving, for if we concen-J concen-J trated only on the destination, I this adventure would soon turn ! into a job - something neither j of us wanted to have. Each day offered a variety of scenery, ex- ! periences and sometimes chal lenges that we shared with each other, and occasionally took pictures of. But our journey was necessarily broken up when "Granny" continued from Page 3 would believe I wasn't that kind of an intruder and hurried hur-ried to my own truck. I made a point from that day on to always double check before I jumped in a truck. In Wyoming we awoke to our entire rig covered in a sheet of ice and had to wait for it to melt enough to get back on the road, while in Louisiana we kept the air conditioning on all night to save us from wilting in the humidity. But the worst layover was in Michigan when we made the mistake of rolling down the windows about two inches to get some air moving during the night. The posted, official bird of Michigan is the mosquito, and about 200 found our cab an inviting place while we were asleep. Dealing with the bites were one thing, but trying to get them out of our truck, while not letting in the masses buzzing on the outside, was quite another. Luckily I had learned a trick from my Avon days and slathered the bites with roll-on deodorant, and while we looked chalky, we didn't scratch ourselves raw from the "gift" these state birds gave us. Stopping at the myriad truck stops, terminals, holding lots and the like were a vital part of the magical journey I learned to enjoy, no, love. What I would give to drive a big truck just once more. around herself and obviously underdressed for the conditions. condi-tions. I rolled down the window halfway and said, "May I help you?" I was mildly surprised and confused at what she said next because she seemed to be tripping over her thoughts and I wondered if she had been drinking. She asked if this was . where I was going to park for the night, which made me think I was in the wrong place, and asked such. She quickly assured as-sured me she was just making sure of where everyone was -like it was her job to keep all the trucks in the right place. We exchanged a few more odd words and she told me to have a good night. It was then I heard Rodger chuckling - no laughing, and as I crawled over him to my side of the very narrow nar-row bed, he asked if I knew who that was. Too many weird questions ques-tions for one night, of course I didn't know who she was and why was he laughing. It was then I had my first lesson on lot lizards, those creatures who offer of-fer their services to lonely truck drivers who haven't got the sense to turn them away. The "lady" was obviously not expecting ex-pecting a woman to answer and even as she fumbled for a reason for being there, she certainly had me fooled. The tables were turned on me at a terminal in Atlanta as I returned to our truck after a walk. When I opened the driver's driv-er's side to climb in, I quickly realized this wasn't my truck, and the driver had that look of surprise that gave me to believe be-lieve he had never seen such a forward lot lizard. I laughed and apologized, hoping he Miami is particularly known for break-ins and stolen trucks and we were continually warned about parking in safe places while waiting for a load. One supplier, upon giving us directions direc-tions to our pick up, assured we would be in a secure area and our overnight wait would be without incident. When we arrived at the address, we found we were on a side street in a mostly residential area that did not look like the neighborhoods in our city. We had no problems, but I think we slept with one eye open. Whether waiting for a load, sleeping at a truck stop, or just taking the precaution of not falling asleep by pulling on to the on-ramp, we generally got through the event with nothing happening to write home about. But every now and again we had some interesting experiences. One of my first occurred as I pulled into the rest stop at Donner's Pass in California. It was about 2 a.m. and Rodger was in the sleeper but woke as 1 maneuvered the truck into a space. The snow was deep and the lot was full, so I inched my way nearly to the exit before finding a place to park. Dead tired and anxious to get into bed, I had barely reached the "bedroom" and started to undress un-dress when there was a knock on the door. I wondered who in the world would need me at 2 a.m., but being the naive and trusting person I was, I put my shirt back on and climbed into the drivers seat. If you haven't been over Donner's Pass in the winter, you must trust me that it was cold. A woman stood outside the door, with her arms wrapped |