it's a story about an unlikely trucker
an excerpt

An Unlikely Trucker

CHAPTER 1:

Avery was waiting in the truck. She sat on a pillow, so that her legs could reach the pedals. Of course, Avery was wearing her winter jacket, so that its bulk covered the pillow. She didn’t want the driving instructor to judge her prematurely. Now there was nothing wrong with a 24-year old woman taking her Class 1 licencing test. Nothing at all.

Avery shook a little in her sheet. The pillow felt lumpy under her thighs and for once in her life she wished that she was taller. Even in grade school when she was the smallest of the small, even in middle school when she was teased for being able to fit into a locker, even in high school when Avery was the shortest girl in her grade, she never once wished she was taller. The summer of her 18th birthday, Avery grew 3 inches. At 5 foot 2, she was happy with herself; except for sitting there in the truck, waiting to take the exam that would determine the course of her life, Avery wished she was a 6 foot something man.

The door to the drive-test center opened. A man paused in the doorframe; he pulled his navy blue jacket over his shoulders and tucked his clipboard close to his chest. The snow was falling in wet, sticky clumps. It was the perfect snow for making a snowman, or having a snowball fight. It was the perfect snow for a day in the park with a cup of warm hot chocolate. It was the perfect snow for that first kiss.

Yet, there was nothing perfect at all about the snow and the roads. Driving to the test center, Avery had watched several people go through red lights—unable to stop in time. And there she was, sitting in the cab of an 18-wheeler about to take the most important test of her life. Avery wondered, as she took a deep breathe, why her life always found ways to make everything more difficult for her. Could the weatherman on Channel 9 have been right for once? Clear skies with a high of –6 would have been just…perfect.

Her examiner slipped on a patch of black ice as he made his way across the parking lot, catching himself with a jerky motion. Avery couldn’t even laugh. She took another claming breath.

“Fuck it,” she said. Her words were barely audible over the loud hum of the engine.

The man made his way to the door of the cab. He pulled on the passenger side door handle. It was locked.

“Sorry.”

Avery fiddled with the buttons until she found the automatic door release. It popped and the examiner hoisted himself up into the truck.

Consulting his now slightly wet clipboard, he addressed her. “Miss Lane?”

“Ms. Lane,” she corrected him.

“Ms. Lane,” his voice grated, “I am Inspector Tate. I’m going to inspect the truck. Headlights, break lights, etc. If you could pay attention when I signal you, I’d greatly appreciate it. It’s cold out there today. And the less time I spend outside, the better a mood I’ll be in when you slide through an intersection.”

As he exited the truck, slamming the door firmly, Avery berated herself. “Ms. Lane. I should have just let him call me Miss. Mr. Anal Retentive already hates me.”

Avery flicked on the wipers to clear her windshield. Inspector Tate was waving his hands around, and Avery guessed at which signal he was signaling her to turn on. It all looked like the same things from her vantage point. He was standing fairly close to the nose of the truck, almost as if he was trying to make this difficult for her.

“Right,” she said, following him with her eyes as he walked towards the rear end of the truck. She pressed her foot down on the break, hoping that was what he wanted to see.

A few minutes later, Inspector Tate pulled himself into the vehicle. He unzipped his coat and put it on the seat between the two of them. Avery could smell his cologne. Talk about close quarters. He wiped his wet glasses on the company shirt and proceeded to drone on about the requirements for the test.

“If you at any time, break the law or are driving in an unsafe manner, I have the right to cancel the test. You will lose your entire prepaid test fee. Do you understand Miss Lane?”

“Very much so.”

He checked a few things off on the back of the form and passed it across the cab. Avery signed the back of the form and initialed in three places.

“Are you sure you don’t want to re-schedule? The weather won’t make this any easier on you.”

“Actually, I’d like to go ahead if you don’t mind Mr. Tate.”

“Ah, it’s Inspector Tate.”

“Inspector.”

He fiddled with the heat settings and soon had a gust of hot air blowing at both driver and passenger. Avery started to sweat.