Sam moved his hand away from JR. She gripped his hand, squeezed, and continued to hold him close. “It looks like you’re stuck with me, at least into Canada. Please be patient and discuss all this strange crap when I need it. You’re my pillar of strength, and I need frequent pep talks; but I will get there, I promise. I not only want to, I have to support you because I don/t want to be a drag.” She looked away for several seconds, then back to Sam. “I could use a cold beer,” she said, “how about you?”
“Yeah. If you’ll get them, I’ll chase Smokey around the park until he wears me down.”
“I’ll bring steaks, potatoes, and charcoal back and cook supper here too.”
They grilled thick rib eye steaks from the coolers and baked Idaho potatoes over an open fire while they drank two more beers from a small cooler as the conversation continued.
They stayed up late talking and slept in the next morning. Marty woke Sam a few minutes past eight Wednesday morning to raise the hood to remove the fuel injectors. Smokey had been restless since seven, so JR was already up and dressed.
Sam asked Marty if there was a restaurant in the small town of four hundred people. “Only one, if she’s still open,” he said. “Vera’s Diner is across the street and south from the gas station.” They walked the three blocks in a cool early morning breeze.
Several motorhomes and rigs with trailers were parked on both sides of the street fronting Vera’s. Inside they sat at the only available table in the small serving room. One woman held a small lap dog. Several customers wore handguns in open carry. Their young server said, “We’re out of sausage and ham. We have eggs, bacon, and pancakes, toast, English muffins, two percent milk, and coffee.” They placed their orders and asked for double bacon with one pancake for Smokey.
It was past two that afternoon before repairs were completed. When Marty was paid, he said he didn’t have another job scheduled, so he and the wife were leaving within the hour. Sam tipped him five, one hundred dollar bills for staying and repairing his truck. Without his help, they would have been stranded.
They went back to the gas station to refill the clean, empty fuel tank. Sam questioned the attendant and was assured all fuel tanks were being checked for water every two hours. While they fueled, a small, local fuel tanker delivered gasoline and diesel. The driver told the attendant it would be their last delivery unless the fuel depot received a surprise delivery they didn’t anticipate. He indicated the pipeline bringing fuel to the local depot was even shutting down because of a lack of employees.
An hour later, a highway information sign indicated Interstate Highway 94 was a mile ahead. Sam had checked his map earlier and said, “We’ll bypass Bismarck by going straight north on two lane State Highway 14, then take State Highway 36 west to US 83 again. That should be quicker and less nerve racking than fighting our way through a major city in heavy traffic. I don’t like the idea of being jammed together in bumper to bumper traffic with drivers acting like they’re on a racetrack. ”
Near Highway 83 a compact SUV with a mid-sized trailer pulled from the shoulder and got ahead of them before the highway entrance ramp. Sam glanced at the clock as he braked and slowed to twenty MPH. The time was three thirty-three. Both units started down the entrance ramp’s long, gradual decline to Highway 83. The SUV picked up speed on the short downhill slope and Sam followed a good hundred feet behind. Instinctively, Sam backed off the throttle and lightly pumped the brakes to slow his rig. Highway traffic was too congested for his rig and the SUV to both merge left into the right lane together. The SUV’s speed was too slow to merge with dense, high-speed traffic even by itself. As was the new norm, the slow traffic was running well above the posted speed limit and the fast drivers were jockeying for position to pass them. The traffic wasn’t bumper to bumper, but the large vehicles were too close for the speed they were running at. Sam didn’t like the looks of what was building. He slightly increased pressure on the brake pedal and felt the ABS thumping.
The SUV driver tried to bull his way into congested traffic on the two lanes running north, but the other drivers didn’t slow to create an opening. Sam’s heavy trailer pushed the truck dangerously. He yelled, “Hang on, this could be bad.” JR grabbed Smokey, stared at the line of traffic, and said, “Oh, shit.” At the end of the merge lane, the SUV was fast running out of pavement, and the truck next to it wouldn’t back off even with the SUV honking furiously. With a loud crash, the SUV slammed against a pickup pulling a large travel trailer. After colliding, the two vehicles bounced apart erratically. The pickup wallowed left across the inside lane crashing into a motorhome alongside it. The motorhome went into the grassy median and knocked a light pole over at the base before it rolled across into the almost vacant southbound lanes. The pickup’s trailer jackknifed, broke loose, and rolled over several time across the left lane as it disintegrated into the median
The SUV jackknifed as its trailer broke loose and
