I was coming out of Conway, Arkansas, after finding my loaded trailer with three flat tires on one side. Needless to say, my drop and hook, which included dropping my empty trailer before backing under my loaded trailer, hit a serious roadblock.

What usually took fifteen minutes before I was on my way, turned into hours of waiting for a tire man, and then, waiting for him to get me road worthy.

The piece of cake run to La Mesa , near San Diego over Christmas, went horribly wrong.

Did I mention it was Christmas Eve? I thought I would sleep in a Truckstop's of America in Amarillo tonight, but it was after six o'clock by the time the tire man bolted on the new tires.

That's when he gave me the bad news.

"You got two tires on that left axle won't make it to the interstate. I don't know how they got that trailer here with the shape those tires are in. You sure someone didn't take the tires off this trailer and bolt on their worn out tires in their place?"

"Can't be sure of much. How long?"

"Ten minutes to the shop, an hour waiting to get a purchase order. I'll try to hurry up. It's my night off. I can have you moving in two hours if I don't hit a snag. I wish I could give you better news. I know you guys get paid by the mile. Can't make much sitting here, but you don't take care of it now, you'll take care of it out on the highway later on tonight."

"You got that right. I should be in Amarillo tonight," I explained.

He laughed.

"No chance that's happening," he said, getting on his way back to his shop.

Did I mention I was freezing my ass off?

I've been out here for ten years. It's nothing new. Often the easiest runs when you take it, turn out to be the biggest pains in the ass. I had only picked up one trailer with worn out tires on it that cost me a shitload of time getting them replaced, and this was that trailer.

The nice thing about being out there for ten years, you know the worst days are followed by better days. My loss of sleep would be the worst part. I couldn't sleep while sitting still, and fifteen hundred miles ahead of me. I needed to roll.

I called dispatch before the warehouse closed. They knew the situation and they'd notify the destination that the shipment would be delayed.

Did I mention it was Christmas Eve?

I drove up the ramp on to I-40 at five minutes to eight.

My foot was pedal to the metal.

I was angry and I wanted to get there, but I backed off after a few minutes. Smokey didn't get the day off either, and he'd be pissed too. I didn't need a speeding ticket to add to what had turned into a day of delays. Tomorrow would be a better day, even if there was no sleep in the immediate future. I needed to get some miles behind me. I hated running behind.

I hit the scale in Fort Smith, crossing my fingers." Please, don't make me come in."

"Driver, pull to the right. Bring in your bills of lading."

"Shit! Merry fucking Christmas."

It was routine, but every delay was another punch in the gut. I planned to sleep in the sleeper at the TA and get up for a nice Christmas breakfast and a lot of coffee.

I'd end up at a pickle park for a couple of hours of sleep, and I would drive all day tomorrow to make up some time. I knew the routine, and I knew where I was going and how far it was, and I would be there when I got there.

I don't know what time it was. It was after ten according to the clock in the weigh station at Fort Smith. It was running on to midnight when I saw him, thumb out, a gym bag at his feet. What was one more stop? Company might make a difference. It always did.

He was tall and lean and dropped into the seat with a smile on his face. From what I could see, he was a nice addition to my too long day.

"Rowdy Ralphson's my name, the US Navy is my game, Partner."

He reached across to shake my hand while I shifted up through the gears.

He was a patient sort and I shook a fairly strong large hand once I was in high gear. He was maybe twenty-one or twenty-two with a nice smile. He was cute.

I checked him out as he got into the second seat. He saw my interest, and he didn't stop smiling. A Navy boy who hitchhiked knew if he was eye candy or not.

Tomorrow was off to a good start.

"Joe Buck," I said while we shook on it.

"Joe, don't mind telling you, it ain't been my day. Got a ride out of Memphis, and I knew when I got in, it was going to be a rough ride. I didn't know how short it would be yet."

"With a trucker?" I asked.

"No, it was a copy of the General Lee from the television show. I mean it had headers and pipes down the side of the hood, and he took off like greased lightning. Blew up before we got to Little Rock. I mean long before we got to Little Rock. I left Lucky standing next to the General Lee with smoke pouring out of the front the back, and all points in between. When General Lee drifted on to the shoulder, it was the first time we went under a hundred since I got in. While I knew I was never going to meet my friend before he went home for Christmas, I told the driver I would send back help from the next town I got to."

"You were probably lucky, even if Lucky wasn't."

"Yeah, but we was in the middle of nowhere. No one would pick me up no matter how far I walked. Not to say there are a lot of cars on the highway on Christmas Eve. The shopping is done. If they're going to grandma's for Christmas, they're already there, tossing back shots of Jose Quervo, watching ballgames, while I'm out here ready to do anything to get a ride."

"Anything? That's a wide open invitation if I heard one,' I said.

"If you were some fat dumpy trucker, that offer would never leave my lips, I assure you."

I laughed. He was a funny guy.

"I hope your day went better than mine," Rowdy said.

"It's been fair, I guess, but it isn't today any longer. It's tomorrow. You know what they say about tomorrow?"

"I must have missed that one. What do they say about tomorrow?"

"According to Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day."

It was his turn to laugh.

"Scarlett was smarter than I gave her credit for. You work on Christmas Eve?" Rowdy asked.

"Truckers work every day. It's how all those shoppers get their goods."

"No one shops on Christmas Eve. They're at grandma's house," he said.

"That's over the river and through the woods, I believe."

"You in the habit of picking up hitchhikers?" he asked.

"Only cute ones," I said, giving him my best smile.

"I'll take that as a positive sign. Do you drive all the time or do you use that bunk from time to time. If you do, is there any chance we might get a little sleep tonight. I'm dead. I would do almost anything for a few hours sleep."

"I'm afraid a couple of hours is about all I am going to get tonight, but once I stop to get that two hours, you can stay in the bunk when I get back out. I'd like to offer more, but it's been a long day and I have miles to go before I sleep."

"I can tell you stories that will keep us both awake, but they're all dirty and full of naked boys that I've known. I haven't done everyone in the Navy, but maybe most of them. No hornier boys on earth. Get them out in the middle of the ocean and no end to things they think up to do to amuse themselves. I bet you have stories to tell, but I'll start."

He leaned on the doghouse and looked at my face.

"My friend Mark organized a wrestling club in high school. We wrestled nude."

"That sounds interesting," I said. "Boys wrestling nude was forbidden when I went to school."

"Of course, but he didn't say wrestle nude until we met the first time. Some guys got up and left when the nude part came up. They went to blow the whistle on us and we never had a second meeting of the nude wrestling club."

"I don't get it? Doesn't sound like it went anywhere."

"The boys who wouldn't wrestle naked numbered seven. The boys who would numbered eight. Mark had a basement with a mat on the floor and two cute brothers who always wrestled with each other naked. We had seven boys who wanted to wrestle naked. I say wanted to because it was the idea of being naked with other boys that got them to stay. "

"What happened?"

"Everything. We met Wednesday and none of us were horny when we left. Meeting Mark was the highlight of my life. I was deep in my closet until we went nude wrestling, and putting your hands on other boys is the point. An erection came with that territory, but when everyone is hard, it's hard to eat just one."

"You stole that line, I believe."

"Some lines cover multiple situations. This is such a case. Without adult supervision you can imagine what naked wrestlers can think up to make hard boys soft."

"It would be hard to keep my mind on wrestling," I said.

"Mark found a way to find out the boys who liked touching boys. His brothers liked getting a boy in the middle. Once Alan and Ed got a boy they liked going, it got the rest of us going. Being fucked and sucked at the same time could drive a boy to distraction, especially a boy who joins a nude wrestling club where he may be able to get off with a little help from his new friends."

"That does present possibilities, doesn't it?"

"With Alan and Ed there to break the ice, everyone saw the possibilities. They were both college boys who hadn't left for college yet. They didn't mind helping Mark have fun, while they had fun. How does a trucker have fun? You obviously pick up boys. How do you break the ice with a boy who you pick up?"

"Being together and getting to know each other. I treat them with respect and like they have some value to me beyond them being a young stud. I can see some of them watching me after I tell them that I'm gay. They look for something queer about me. What they see is a truck driver driving. I look like any other guy. Some start wondering why I haven't touched them. Some sleep in that seat for a few nights. I warn them I sleep nude, but they are welcome to sleep in the bunk. The guys who decide to sleep in the bunk get naked too, since that's what I do. As was true with the wrestling club, once two bodies begin to touch, erections follow and then questions about what guys do comes up."

"Step by step you lead them into a life of sin?" Rowdy said.

"Sin is some place, and you need to remember, these boys usually have nowhere to go. They left something they could no longer put up with. I've seen enough boys to know not to question them or make them uncomfortable. The gay deal becomes okay as long as I'm not pressuring them. I know most of them bailed out of a bad situation. I'm out here every day. I like company. I don't need to run them off by being aggressive. I would rather have someone in the second seat than not. Company helps pass the time. Some boys are hot and it's hard not to react to that, but I do not want boys doing something they don't want to do. It's chancy, because we are so close all the time, but I've learned, by telling them I'm gay the first day, they run that through their mind. Most don't ask to be let out. I am just a guy, and most boys have some ideas about being a trucker, a cowboy of the highway."

"I thought of it. How long do they sleep in this seat. It's not that comfortable?"

"Two or three nights are usually enough to have them climbing into the bunk with me."

"Then you have them. I suppose I could wait if I figured on being rewarded for it."

"I sleep nude. I don't allow clothes on my clean sheets. I also tell them this along the way as they consider their things. They see me strip down, boots on the floor, jeans in the seat, shirt on the back of my seat. I don't wear underwear."

"They're still sleeping here?" Rowdy asked.

"Some are. Some sleep with me from the first night. Each boy has his own speed of processing what they see and hear. I wouldn't want to sleep in that seat, but I'm a perfect stranger at first, and getting too close isn't something they are comfortable with."

After a while on the truck, you develop a relationship, usually a friendship, and once you like each other, the idea of helping each other get off isn't such a reach. It goes back to how horny boys are. You sleep naked together and things will happen."

"How many end up in your bunk having sex with you?""

"Most, not all. Like I said, you're together all the time. We shower in the same shower stall. We see each other clothed and naked. I won't say I didn't have sexual ideas about the first few boys I picked up when I became a trucker. I wasn't beyond asking them for sex at first. No one had to do it to stay on the truck. That was never part of the deal, but once we crossed that line, a guy that said I don't want to do that again, isn't going to last too long. Having had sex with someone and then have them say no, not again, it's too hard being that close to someone I've been with. For them it might be one and done, but one opens a door I can't close, and we part after that. Surprisingly few boys have the sexual experience and then decide it wasn't their cup of tea. Usually, after we break the sexual barrier, most are more than happy to give it a go. A few find out they like it, and they wear me out. I only get so much time in the bunk, and having sex there is fun, but I need some sleep."

"You've got this down to a science," he said.

"I've been with enough boys I've picked up to know how they think. I know by how they act, when they'll start getting in the bunk with me. It is part of my routine. They work it all out in their minds as we go along."

"You wouldn't need to wait long to get me into your bunk," he said.

"I don't pick up a boy if he doesn't look good to me. It's hard enough being out here that I don't want to deal with a disagreeable guy if I don't need to. When I am deciding to pick someone up, I make sure they look like good company, and there is the danger thing. I wouldn't pick up a boy who could overpower me. As I said, they've got to look okay."

"We still haven't gotten to the sex part. What do they do?"

"Boys will be boys. Sex is made this mysterious thing you don't dare do until you are married, and then only to make babies. Who thought that up? The cultures and religions have made the human body taboo to view and terrible to touch. What they get out of such nonsense is a mystery. The idea people go along with it is crazy. Everyone has a body. Some are nicer than others. You won't go blind if you beat off. If you did go blind, we'd have a nation of blind men. It's Voodoo. I can't say why the human body is seen as such a hazard to see and touch. With the Puritans, it was the fear someone might enjoy himself. Heaven forbid someone has fun. It's stuff someone made up a million years ago, and because they told people this was God's idea, they fall for it. Do you think God worries about all seven billion of us having fun? Give me a break. The human body is beautiful in many cases, and sex feels good in all cases, according to my experiences."

He laughed.

"You do want to have sex with them? See?"

"If I pick them up it's possible. It doesn't always work out that way. I am out here every day."

"Yeah, I heard, you can take it or leave it. I can't leave it, not for very long anyway," he said. "Is there any common denominator on boys you pick up?"

"Lost boys. They don't have a plan except to leave what they are leaving. The road is a hard place. You don't get out here on a lark. Not the boys I meet."

"Why do they get out there, Joe?"

"Desperation. You see it in their eyes, their posture. How they look at me, hoping I'm not dangerous. They know there are dangerous people out here. Things are bad enough to make them hit the road to find some place better. I want them to feel safe with me. I give them no reason to think otherwise. The truck is a safe haven and I have some company as I move up and down the highway. If I get more than company out of it, that's nice too."

"You let them know you aren't dangerous. Joe, you're a nice guy."

"I show them. I ask, 'Where you heading?' If they look at me with that blank look on their face, I know the answer. By this time they've thought of a place and might give me the name of a place. Some ask where I'm going as their answer to the question. They never say, 'I don't know,' but mostly they don't know. Some place safe with plenty of food?"

"They've found a safe haven with you and your truck."

"I want them to think that. It takes time, but most do see the truck as a safe place, but it's constantly moving, and for some boys, they need to stop moving after a while. Not everyone is cut out to be a trucker. When a boy gets off my truck, I give him a number where they can call me if they need me."

"That says a lot, doesn't it?"

"You learn not to ask questions. I try to make them feel comfortable. They'll tell me what they want me to know. They might lie at first. They aren't going to open up to a stranger. I do my best to not remain a stranger. I might talk about my helpers. We call them lumpers, because they help load and unload the trailer. They get their meals and pay when they work. This gets them wanting to know more, and they might ask questions."

"You get to know each other?" he asked.

"If they have no place, the idea of having a place, a job, and something to look forward to is way better than the long empty highway in front of them."

"How many hitchhikers get out the first day?"

"Even the ones who might have a destination in mind usually stay with me for at least a few days. The average is two months. One stayed a year and a half."

"Does anyone come back to ride with you a second time?"

"I have three that call me from time to time wanting to go with me for a while. These are guys who love being on the truck, but get tired of it after a while. They know they can get off and come back. I think having that option helps them to get where they're going."

"Do you ever keep one that doesn't have sex with you?"

"Richie came on when he was fourteen. He had a destination. He was going to grandma's. He got into my bunk. He slept in my arms. No sex. He left the truck the next day. I gave him a way to get in touch with me. His grandmother called to thank me for seeing he got home safe and sound. I began visiting her and to see Richie. Sometimes he left with me to ride for a few weeks. He couldn't last more than a month. There was nothing sexual between us, but I think what he liked most was sleeping in my arms. It's the only reason I can figure he calls at least once a year. Last time I saw him, he was twenty, had a girlfriend, and he came to see me while I was having my truck worked on. He had a car by then. He was with his girlfriend and he slept in her arms by then."

"You were friends," Rowdy said.

"We were. I was friends with his grandma too. She made the best biscuits. She never forgot that I let him stay in my truck overnight and got him to her exit on the highway. I would have dropped him at her house, but he told me he was sixteen, and I took him to his exit."

"You never had sex with him?"

"No sex," I said.

"That's a nice story on Christmas Eve," he said.

"I liked company. Richie was good company."

"Holding. That's all you did?"

"I didn't know his story. He lived with his grandmother. He wanted affection, and he felt it in the arms of a trucker who picked him up. Knowing he liked being held was all I needed. When I pick a boy up, I want him to feel safe with me. I want to give him what he needs."

"How many of the boys picked up liked being held?"

"I held all of them. Yes, I like having a boy in my arms. I explained, it's a small bed. I got to put my arm somewhere. Once they get to where they want to sleep in the bunk, they don't mind my arm being around them. Most get comfort from being held. That was obvious. Richie was one of the first hitchhikers I picked up. I learned it from him."

"I could get used to it," Rowdy said.

"It's like wrestling naked. Once your bodies rub together a while, the idea of sex isn't so far out of the question. Boys are horny devils, but it starts with them sleeping in my arms."

"Amazing. Most of the guys I know would never touch another boy. It's the fear of being queer. They'd never allow a guy to hold them," Rowdy said. "They fear touching each other."

"I picked up Mike in the back of the Breezewood 76, right near the exit. He was crying. I watched him while I ate. His heart had been broken. His girlfriend left him. When I was done, I walked back and I said, "You want to come with me. Leave your troubles behind."

"He followed me to my truck and he stopped crying. While we drove, he watched me. He told me about his girl dumping him. When I pulled over to sleep, I got undressed in my seat. When I climbed in the back, I told him to get undressed and come to bed. As soon as he had his back against my chest, I put my arm around him. He never flinched. I held him all night. He cried some, but then the crying stopped. He never cried again, and every night he slept in my arms. He had a gorgeous body. His girlfriend was nuts for letting him go," I said.

"When I drove, he kept his eyes on me. He didn't talk much, and once he got off the truck, he had recovered and wanted to go home. I gave him my info. I said for him to call me if he needed me."

"Did he call?"

"Six months later, I was sitting at the house and Mike called. Tell me how to get to your house, my family will drop me off if you want me."

"Did you want him?"

"I wanted him. I hadn't forgotten the feel of him in my arms."

"Did you have sex with him?" Rowdy asked.

"We tried one time. He wanted to do it for me, because I told him how gorgeous he was. He couldn't get it up. He just wasn't turned on by a guy, me anyway, but he slept in my arms, and I knew that's why he called. He wanted me to hold him each night until he got strong again, and then, he would go home to face his demons. It worked the first time he was on my truck."

"Amazing, Joe. I think we were destined to meet on Christmas Eve. I am your Christmas gift, because you've been so good this year. Merry Christmas, Joe."

"Merry Christmas, Rowdy. It's a lovely gift indeed. We'll stop soon and I'll unwrap you."

Rowdy stayed with me until I got a run to Waycross, Georgia. After I delivered, I drove him back to the Naval station at Mayport. I gave him my information and told him to call if he needed me."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The End

For all you four-wheelers out there, keep the shiny side up and the dirty side down.

Merry Christmas to all and may you have the best New Year ever.

Joe Buck



Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm
@yahoo.com

More Joe Buck Tales

Rick Beck Home Page