breaker-1-9.txt

title:Breaker 1 9
parent:dr-gears-storytime-entries
[[>]]
[[module Rate]]
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I don't know if this is really a creepy story, but it scared the shit out of me at the time.

Four years ago, I was going through training for over-the-road trucking.  We were out in Oregon, getting my night hours in.  My trainer told me to be careful, because this stretch of road was long, boring, and empty.  We gassed up, and he said to just put the cruse on, because without it you'd creep up to 70 or 80, and feel like you were doing 40.  This was around...one, two in the morning, and pretty soon my trainer was in a half-doze next to me, with me fighting off the same.

There was NOTHING on this road.  Flat, straight, with some trees about ten yards off to each side, it was like being on another planet.  I didn't see another car for nearly a hour.  My trainer would pry an eye open to check my speed and make sure I hadn't hit anything important from time to time, but I was pretty much alone.  I didn't mind, really, but the radio didn't even really come in, and I'd forgotten to put my CDs in the cab.  Even a mildly creepy road can get boring after a while.

I was getting ready to nudge my trainer awake when I saw something by the road.  It was a long ways off, and I thought it might be a deer or something.  I started slowing down, checking the sides, trying to see if there were any more.  A big rig can hit a deer without a ton of problems, but it's a holy mess, and can be a bitch to fix if they crack something important.  As we got closer, I saw it wasn't a deer, it was a person.

It was late, and I was tired, but I got a general impression of short hair, slightly ratty clothes, a general slump, like she was tired.  She was just standing by the road.  We'd helped out break-downs before, but I didn't remember seeing any cars off to the side on the way in.  She might have broke down farther up, and was walking back...what a shitty stretch of road to get stuck on.  I started slowing down, when suddenly my trainer spoke up, totally lucid.

“The fuck are you slowing down for?”

I jumped, told him to look, someone was in trouble or something, still slowing down.  My trainer looked, looked back at me, and got up.  If you've ever been in a semi cab, you know that, while no resort suite, they have a fair amount of room.  He stood next to me, grabbed the wheel, and pushed his foot down on the accelerator.  I was more then a little confused, he looked really weird, and had basically taken control of the truck from me, which he hadn't done like this since my first couple days of training.  What's more, he was putting us up to around 70 in a 55.

I started yelling, and he just told me to shut up, gogogo, keep going.  I almost screamed when I looked up again.  The girl had walked from the side to the middle of our lane.  I started swearing at my instructor, telling him we're going to kill that girl, almost hit him a couple times, just freaking the hell out, and he wouldn't say anything to me, just kept staring out the window.  I did scream when I looked out and saw the girl standing about ten yards in front of our grill.  She looked tired.  I closed my eyes and just balled up in the seat.

And then...nothing.  No crunch, no bang, no skidding and screaming.  I looked, and we were still rolling.  My trainer was back in his seat, and I had to grab the wheel before we started to drift.  I looked back, and saw the girl standing in the exact same place, staring at us as we drove on.  I looked at my instructor as he was settling back in to his seat.  He looked at me through one eye, and sighed.

“Sometimes, she waves.”

I was so shaken, by the time I started asking questions, he was already asleep.  Finished my training a week or two later, and didn't really see him again.  Been on the road for a few years now, and haven't had more then the normal amount of problems.  As I think of it, I don't remember the name of the road we were on, or if I ever knew it, really.  I think about it, now and then.  You hear stories, sometimes.  I wonder what would have happened if I'd stopped.  Or if she'd waved to me.  Or what happened to make a well-seasoned trucker do almost 40 over the limit down an empty stretch of nothing road.

Sometimes, late, I think I see her.  Overtired, mind wandering, but still.

She's not waved yet.