Chapter 1

My name is Greg Kinnear Junior, but everyone has always called me Bud, short for Buddy! It saves being associated with the actor of the same name, too! Ever since I was very young, I’ve been fascinated with eighteen wheelers. A trucking company’s yard was across from my elementary school and we used to stand out on the curb and yank our arms up and down trying to get them to blow their air horns. I think the truck drivers enjoyed blowing their horns as much as we did.

I never wanted to go to college, my life’s path was in a totally different direction. I married my high school sweetheart just after we graduated, the reason is now seven years old. She is the light of my life, even though her mother and I have been divorced for over six years. Something about coming home early one day and finding her pregnant body being double fucked in our marriage bed just didn’t set well with me! She begged me not to leave her, she claimed it was just being curious about what other men could do for her that had driven her to find out what one cock in her vagina, and another next door in her asshole, felt like.

Maybe I wanted my freedom as much or more than Julie wanted hers that made me seek a divorce. But more likely it was the look on her face as she had multiple orgasms as she fucked back on those cocks that made up my mind. At that time I was driving a tandem axle truck delivering full framing loads to new subdivisions for Wicks Lumber Company between Alvin and Manvel, Texas. The next week I enrolled in a class that taught how to drive an eighteen wheeler. They guaranteed a job at the end of the course. I learned a lot in the course, but was underpaid for the job. I drove a truck for Central Freight out of a large regional terminal delivering freight to businesses in northwest Houston.

After two years with Central I was able to place a down payment on a used Peterbilt and both a flatbed and box trailers. I became a semi independent long haul driver. I use the word “semi”. Because I’m being honest with you and myself. An independent hauler has to have someone arranging for loads so that deadheading was kept to a minimum.

Dead heading is when you are driving, spending money on diesel, but aren’t carrying anything that is paying for it. The less you deadhead the more you clear at the end of the year! I was lucky, I met a man that owned a freight brokerage firm named Lester Franklin. Lester had been an independent trucker, but a drunk woman traveling at in excess of one hundred miles per hour and running a traffic light had ended his driving and put him in a wheelchair. He had put together a freight brokerage business that was fair to both shippers and drivers. He made plenty of money by dealing in volume rather than high fees.

My tractor was a conventional cab Peterbilt with a queen sized bed in the sleeper. I had made the last payment to the bank and the rig was mine! It was comfortable and became my permanent home, though my mailing address was my parents home in Laredo, Texas where I had been born and raised.

I had just dropped a load at a computer manufacturing plant in Georgetown, Texas and was heading to pick up another full load at a Dell assembly plant in Florence, Texas. It was getting dark, and the weather had been clear as the sun was setting. The western sky was painted in yellows, oranges, reds, and purples, a truly beautiful end to the day!

Suddenly out of nowhere it began to rain! Like what the hell just happened? One second it was clear except for the beautiful clouds giving the sunset its colors, then it was raining and the temperature dropped forty degrees! Weather in Texas changes rapidly in Texas, but this was a record in swiftness even for here!

My lights swept past someone walking on the edge of the road. There wasn’t a shoulder on this farm to market road in the boonies. My light swept past her and I barely had time to move to the left to avoid hitting her. I carefully stopped and put my flashers on. I wasn’t entirely certain of what, if anything, I had seen! I checked my right door mirrors and couldn’t see anything! Had I hit her? Somehow I knew it had been a girl or a young woman.

I jumped down from my nice warm and dry cab, into the rain that continued to come down in buckets, and rounded the front of the tractor and looked down the length of my rig. Behind my truck and box trailer about twenty yards was a figure dressed in white getting drenched. It was a woman, she was thin and the dress she was wearing was what I considered was a “flapper” dress! A slinky number made famous in the nineteen twenties, the “roaring” twenties! One hundred years ago!