Montana
It was out of diesel. The truck slowed, and the guy training me how to drive pulled the truck over to the side of the road.
Sorry, bud. I tried to get us to a fillin’ station. I did, truly.
I looked out at the snow. There was road for a hundred miles in front of us, and behind us. There was snow on either side. Nothing really to speak of anywhere in sight. Nothing but miles and miles of Montana in all directions.
I heard over the Radio: Stanley Trucking. You all right there?
He grabbed the microphone.
Come pick me up. I ran outt’a fuel.
A Truck pulled up in front of us, and parked.
The guy training me turned in his seat, and looked at me.
You gonn’a be okay until I get back, bud?
There was no fuel to start the engine, so the heater wouldn’t work. It was snowing.
Yeah. I guess I’ll be dandy, I said.
There ya’ go, he said. He gave me a wink, and he stepped out of the cab of the truck, and ran in the snow to the truck parked up ahead of us.
I blew on my hands, and I watched them drive away from me.
