When I started driving this truck I was running away from something. Well, maybe I was running away from nothing. No plans. No ideas. No money. No place. Now my life is a constant struggle to negate my own surroundings, to be something other than what I seem to be. I try to eat the truck stop salads, to maintain some semblance of eating well. Mostly they're just iceberg lettuce, lettuce and sweet salad dressing. Sometimes there are shredded carrots in there, the occasional tomato wedge. I try to exercise in the mornings, jogging beside the truck or even doing sit-ups in the sleeper. I try to listen to books on tape, pretending to be engaged in culture.
You don't see the world driving a truck. You see the roads: High pitched, whining roads and chugging, rough roads, rain-slicked roads that blend into the wet night all around and disappear. You see the backs of a million cars. You're blinded by the sun. Before long you begin to realize that you know nothing about the world but you know little things about every state. Which gas station in Alabama has the worst coffee? Where can you take a shower in Kansas? What's the quickest way through New Jersey? You measure the passage of your life with the gas gauge. You're filling up the tank again. What have you learned since the last gas station? How have you changed? Not much.
I think I'm getting the knack of banter with truck stop waitresses. I like the good ones, the ones that are clever and efficient, friendly but aloof. When I first started driving I was bewildered by them. I was awkward and even hostile. I was condescending. Maybe I've lowered my standards, but I feel like I've just opened my eyes. I'm not sure who the hell I thought I was before, and I have no idea who I am now, but I have a better sense of who these ladies are. I'd love to get to know one of them, maybe ask her out. I don't know. They must get hit on all the time. I'd love to kiss one of them, make love to her. Probably I'll just make small talk, though.
I don't know how long I'll drive this truck. I'm afraid it's becoming easier, almost enjoyable. I've always thought of myself as an artist or an academic. I never pictured myself as infrastructure. I never imagined serving a tangible purpose. I move things around. Do you have a big pile of stuff in the wrong place? I can move it for you. Most of the time I make a point of not knowing what I'm hauling. Just hook me up and give me and address, I'll get it there. I just need to know where and when. I don't care what and I've stopped asking why.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
