I'll be your Trucker Sucker from here on out.
I was named for my fraternal grandfather, Sterling Rogers, an independent trucker who drove trucks for General Patton's 7
th
Army during World War II. After the war, he worked as a long-distance truck driver the rest of his working life, and as I was named for him, I guess it was no surprise that I would follow in his footsteps. I joined the Army shortly after high school and planned on making the military my career. However, after being passed over three times for E-8, I was out with only sixteen years of service, no pension, a wife of twelve years, and three young children to raise.
My last duty station was Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, and while still on active duty, my wife and I had purchased a small house on five acres near Lebanon, Missouri. We loved the house -- absolutely the nicest place we had ever lived -- and with the kids well established in school, Kelly and I both agreed we would never move again. With no other job skills, a mortgage to pay, and a family of five to feed -- I opted to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and enrolled in truck driving school. A short three weeks later, I received my CDL and a job offer from the TD Walker Freight Company.
The job with Walker allowed me to be home most evenings and weekends. So, my time at home and with the family was actually better than when I was in the military. The only downside was my pitiful take-home pay. It seemed like I was actually making more when I was in the Army. And as our financial situation grew tighter and tighter -- the lure of long-distance driving was always on my mind.
After three years with Walker, I managed to talk Kelly into allowing me to buy a used Kenworth W900 with a sleeper. My career as an independent
'gypsy'
trucker now lay ahead of me on that endless ribbon of highway. The work was hard, and the hours were long, but the freedom was intoxicating. I had never been my own boss before, and I loved it. Unfortunately, I may have loved it too much. Kelly began calling the truck
'my mistress'
as I certainly did spend more time behind the wheel than I spent at home.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I had actually found my calling. But like the old adage says,
'when the wheels aren't turning -- you're not making money,'
and I was making money, as I drove as many hours as the regulations would allow. I promised Kelly that if she could hang in there with me for three or four years, we'd have enough money to buy several more trucks, and we could start our own trucking company. We would manage it together from Lebanon and hire other drivers to handle the road.
Six years later, it was still just me. I was only home four or five days every six to seven weeks. I basically lived in my truck, and home was just a rest stop to see my kids, do my laundry, and if I was lucky, get in a night or two of marital intimacy with Kelly.
On one of these stops at home, my life changed forever. The kids were all happy to see me, and everything seemed normal with Kelly when I walked into the kitchen with my laundry slung over my shoulder. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a little slap on the ass -- she didn't respond. But that was pretty normal over the last several years, and I just grew to expect it. I should add, I do my own laundry -- but she does all of the other household chores and single-handedly raises our kids.
At dinner that night, again everything all seemed normal enough. The kids peppered me with where have you been, what kind of stuff did you haul, and of course -- what did you bring me? However, after dinner, as I walked out to check on the truck, my neighbor was passing by and stopped to say hi; or so I thought. "Hey, Sterling," he said as he pulled into my driveway and stepped out of his pickup.
"Ryan," I said with a friendly wave of my hand.
Hey," he said, rather seriously. And then, after a quick handshake, he looked around to make sure no one else was within earshot. "Kelly is cheating on you, Sterling."
"What?" I said in disbelief.
"I hate to be the one to tell you, but she's cheating on you," he said, with a look of sincere concern on his face.
I just stood there in shock. I hated that my neighbor had to be the one to tell me. But I knew he was just trying to protect me -- and I guess from a good friend's point of view -- trying to protect my kids as well.
I stood there in silence for a moment before I said, "Okay -- ah, what do you mean -- I mean, how do you know?"
"She goes out several nights a week -- leaving your kids home alone," he said, in a hushed tone. "When you're out of town, I've seen her come home late at night. And to be honest, based on her driving, I've been concerned that she'd been drinking." He paused and looked around again to make sure no one was approaching. "Last Friday night, I was at the Double Eagle with some guys from work, and I saw her flirting with a guy I'd never seen before. Around eleven o'clock, I watched them walk out together, and out of concern for her safety, I followed them out. I then watched her get in a pickup truck with him -- and if I can cut to the chase, in less than a minute, she had her head down in the guy's lap, and she was giving him a blow job."
I put my hand on his shoulder, "Thank you, Ryan," I said. "I know this was hard for you to come and tell me. But it's my fault -- I'll handle it. Thank you for telling me."
Over the next two days, I just worked around the house doing all the chores I could find. I went to one of my younger son's baseball games and helped my daughter with a 4-H project she had been working on for several months. In bed, I tried snuggling with Kelly -- but that never went anywhere. And besides, I couldn't have gotten an erection if my life depended on it, and I'm sure she sensed that.
After three days at home, I took a short haul from Springfield to Oklahoma City and returned with an empty trailer the same day. I didn't go directly home but instead parked my rig at the Petro 44 outside of Springfield. I considered the Petro 44 sort of my home base. That was where I always had my truck serviced, and I knew almost everyone that worked there.
I borrowed a friend's pickup truck and headed up the Interstate to Lebanon. Then driving by the house about seven that evening -- I found that the lights were on, but Kelly's car was missing. I cruised around town past all the likely places she might be until I found her car parked outside the Double Eagle. The Double Eagle is a local dance hall with a Country-Western theme and a favorite of many of the soldiers from Fort Leonard Wood. I parked a few cars away and waited.
A little after nine, she came stumbling out of the club with some guy I'd never seen before. She didn't appear to be completely drunk -- but she sure wasn't stone-cold sober either. When she reached her car, but before she unlocked the door, the guy playfully pushed her up on the hood of the car. With Kelly now lying flat on her back, and this guy leaning over the fender, first he playfully
'pinned'
her to the hood of the car, then he leans over and kisses her. As I sat silently in my borrowed pickup, I watched them make out for three to four minutes before she playfully pushed him off, got into her car, and after blowing him a kiss, drove off into the night.
I followed her home, keeping a safe distance so she wouldn't spot me. Of course, she didn't know I was in town, so she wasn't expecting me to be following her -- and besides, she was probably three-sheets-to-the-wind anyway. I pulled into the driveway moments after she did and confronted her as she was getting out of her car.
"Where have you been," I asked in an accusatory voice?
