I had been on the road with Preacher for weeks now. I was starting to get used to the daily regimen. I and Preacher would take turns driving. I would drive for ten hours and then Preacher would take over as I crawled into my bunk to sleep. We were paid by the mile so it was to our advantage to keep the truck rolling. It was grueling though and I soon grew weary of it. I don’t think the truck got turned off for days at a time except to refuel or to load or unload.
One of the hardest aspects for me to get used to was sleeping in a rolling vehicle. The truck had two bunks top and bottom. By company policy and law, you could only sleep on the bottom bunk when the vehicle was in motion. The bottom bunk was Preacher’s bed with his comforter and sheets. I hated sleeping in another man’s bed and on one of our stops, I bought a sleeping bag and would sleep atop of Preacher’s beddings inside it. Also, if the truck ever hit a large pothole or bump, you would literally bounce in the bunk and it would jar you awake.
One evening, we were on some back roads in Mississippi. It must have been around midnight. I awoke to the truck sitting perfectly still with the engine off. “Now this is odd!” I thought. I pulled on my pants and opened the curtain separating the sleeping area from the front cab of the truck. The flashing lights of a police cruiser greeted me. I climbed into the passenger’s seat to see what was going on. Soon Preacher came climbing back into the truck with a ticket in hand. He was livid as hell.
“Those damned smokies gave me a ticket for a headlight out!” He exclaimed. “If I were white then I wouldn’t have gotten a ticket!”
We were still hundreds of miles from the distribution center were we could get another headlight installed. Preacher had tried to explain this to the officer but to no avail. The police could sometimes see these big trucks as sources of rolling revenue.
“From now on, for the rest of the night, your white butt is going to drive,” He said. “You won’t get a ticket. I can almost guarantee you.”
I looked at the mileage and trip computer and sure enough, I had gained ten more legal hours to drive. I felt like I had only slept for two hours though and begrudgingly climbed back into the driver’s seat. Soon we were rolling again as Preacher climbed into his bunk to go to bed.
“Wake me up if something happens,” Preacher said and then he shut curtains between us.
I had probably only driven fifty miles when a police cruiser came racing up beside me. He flicked on his lights and motioned for me to pull over. I had to drive several more miles to find a suitable spot. You can’t just pull a big rig over anywhere. The officer got out of his car and walked up to the truck. I rolled down my window.
“You doin’ all right tonight?” He asked in a heavy southern drawl looking up to me.
“Yes sir,” I said. “I will be glad when I can park this thing and stop for the night though.”
The officer didn’t ever ask me to get out of the truck.
“Well, I just wanted you to know you have a headlight out,” He said. “Get it fixed as soon as possible.”
The cop walked back to his car and drove off. Preacher was right. I didn’t get a ticket. Preacher poked his head through the curtains.
“Now, didn’t I tell you?” He said. “My black ass would have gotten a ticket!”
We finally made it back to Indianola and the distribution center. The first thing I did after dropping off our trailer was to head straight to the service bay to get that headlight fixed. Two run-ins with the cops were two too many for me that night. I was so glad to be off the road and to get some fitful sleep after a restless night.
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