There's a picnic area on I-40 where lots of truckers tend to pull in for the night, so I pulled in, lit a cigarette and got out of the car to take a piss. I knew that would give the truckers a chance to get a look at me.

As I zipped up and turned to get back in the truck, I noticed a trucker had turned his interior lights on and was watching me. Knowing that most drivers tend to do some work with the light on before turning in, such as logging their hours, I didn't do much except look. At first I couldn't see much, he had his running lights on, and the light was reflecting off the windows so I couldn't see in. Pretty soon the running lights were shut off and I had a clear view inside the cab.

Not getting any obvious signal, I decided to be bold and take a walk over to his cab. Casually strolling by, so as not to piss him off if he wasn't looking for something. As I got to his drivers side door, I noticed that his window was down. Kind of unusual since it was 15 degrees that night. He said, "Hey there!" I said, "Hey." Couldn't come up with anything more brilliant at the moment.

It was hard to talk over the rumble of his engine. I almost had to yell to get him to hear me, and yelling was one of the last things I wanted to do in a picnic area full of truckers. He mentioned it was a hell of a cold night, and I agreed. The he asked if I wanted to get out of the wind, and he popped open the door of the cab. ... Read More NOW inside the Truckstop...

The driver, a big, burly guy who looked about 30-35, asked me, "Where you headed, kid?". "California," I said, "or as far as you'll take me."

I climbed in and he told me throw my backpack back in the sleeper compartment and get comfortable. As he pulled out onto the interstate, he introduced himself as Jim. I told him my name was Gary. He started asking a lot of questions about where I was from, where I was going, and how long I was planning to stay, and so on. He seemed really interested, especially that I planned to work my way to Australia.

"Sorry the AC's on the fritz. Just have to grin and bear it." He said, then paused for a minute, and added, "Or bare it--if you want to take your shirt off, you can." I did take off my sport shirt, but I left my T-shirt on. By then his curly black hair was starting to look wet and fall down over his forehead. The underarms of his light denim shirt were soaked.

"That's a good idea," he said. "I'm about to melt, too, but I can't take my hands off the wheel. Would you mind unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it out of my jeans for me? I've got to try to cool down a little."... Read More NOW inside the Truckstop...