The sun was barely up over the dusty stretch of I-80 when Drvrtech77 and Ridge, two rookie truckers, climbed into their rigs at the distribution center. Drvrtech77 had barely passed his CDL test after parallel parking into a dumpster, and Ridge still thought “double-clutching” was something you did at a dance party. Their boss, a grizzled man named Hank, handed them their manifests with a sigh. “Just get the loads to Reno. No detours, no drama.”
Drvrtech77’s rig was loaded with frozen pizzas, and he figured the reefer unit’s humming was optional. “Saves fuel,” he muttered, switching it off. By mile marker 50, the cab smelled like a microwave apocalypse, and a trail of melted cheese oozed out the trailer doors. He didn’t notice—his CB radio was blaring a conspiracy podcast about Bigfoot running the DOT.
Ridge, meanwhile, was hauling a flatbed of unsecured lumber. He’d seen tie-down straps in training but thought they were “suggestions.” Halfway up a steep grade, he hit the brakes too hard, and a cascade of 2x4s launched like spears onto the highway. A Prius swerved, a minivan honked, and Ridge waved cheerfully, oblivious to the chaos in his mirrors. “Road’s gotta toughen up,” he said to himself, cranking his outlaw country playlist.
At a weigh station, Drvrtech77 misjudged the scale’s edge and clipped it with his trailer, sending sparks flying and the attendant diving for cover. “Close enough!” he yelled, flooring it before anyone could flag him down. Ridge rolled in next, but he’d forgotten to log his hours—again. The inspector took one look at his scribbled logbook (featuring doodles of monster trucks) and shook his head. “Son, this ain’t a comic book.”
By some miracle, they reached Reno, though Drvrtech77’s pizzas were now a biohazard, and Ridge’s lumber was scattered across three counties. Hank was waiting, arms crossed. “You two are why I drink,” he said, staring at the wreckage. Drvrtech77 grinned. “Told ya we’d make it.” Ridge nodded. “And we only hit, like, two things.”
Hank didn’t fire them—good drivers were hard to come by—but he did sign up for night school to train replacements. Drvrtech77 and Ridge? They celebrated at a diner, arguing over who’d win in a fight: Bigfoot or a Peterbilt. Couple of real retards.
