Not a Truck Stop: His Name Is … – Pt 1 of 3

Not a Truck Stop

Today something happened to me that hasn’t previously occurred.

I was driving on the highway and passed an 18-wheeler. The driver pulled the horn lever. Okay, so that part has happened before. I slowed down thinking he saw police or state troopers up ahead. When I slowed enough to be beside him, he raised his hand, pointed at me, and at his ring finger. I laughed as I shook my head from side to side. I pulled ahead again. He honked again. I slowed down … yes, again. I looked up into his cab with a hand raised as if to say, “What?” He made motions as if writing. I was in a state of disbelief thinking, “The nerve of this guy.” I pointed to the side of the road and he nodded. I pulled over. He pulled ahead and over onto the shoulder in front of me. I was laughing while trying hard not to. This guy is crazy … and I must be crazy because I stopped too.

I noticed the weight in the cab shift and knew he was exiting. He approached my window. I pushed the button to automatically roll it down. “Is this what you do all day?” I said when he was within hearing distance. He replied, “Yes, I drive for a company.” “No,” I said, “Honk and pull women over?” “No, this is my first time doing this. You looked like a nice person and a nice woman is hard to find.” We made small talk as he kept looking over his shoulder. I admit that I was concerned for his safety. He was standing next to my car on the traffic side.

Short story shorter, we exchanged numbers. We texted each other a face shot and talked later in the evening. He’s from Alabama and said he comes through Delaware often. He asked me to come see him, to meet him in Jersey. He explained that he drops his load in the morning and will head back home. He said he’d give me gas money and take me shopping.

I was shaking my head “no” as he was talking. I don’t do things like that. Drive out-of-State to see a man I met on the side of the road. I explained that to him and that I’m open to meeting local men to spend quality time with. He said he’d call the next day after dropping his load to see what I was up to and if time allowed us to meet for lunch.

I mentioned to a friend that I was pulled over for a number. The first response was that he was a “serial killer with HIV.” I laughed and responded back asking how is that any different from meeting a guy at a grocery store or on the street? She didn’t have an answer.

I’ll keep you posted on what happens with …, I’ll call him, ‘Raymond.’

Comments are always welcome.

I look forward to reading if you’ve had similar experiences as the one above.

Do you think the meeting above is different from meeting someone in a store or on the street? Why or why not?

What would you have done in this situation? Would you have pulled over? Why or why not?

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(This short series was originally posted earlier this year. It’s been deleted, edited, revised, and reposted.) 

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