This is a work of fiction and a new category for me but I thought I would give it a try.
Should Have Bought a Diesel
Part 1
The snow was coming heavier as the sun disappeared behind the high hills to the west. I had been into town to pick up my new truck and by now I was getting concerned about making it home. I called my wife and told her I was probably going to be late and not to worry. It was an unusually early September snowstorm, and I was worried as I was getting low on gas. Always check the gas gage in a new vehicle...dumb move on my part.
Finally, I had to pull into a rest area as the truck started to sputter. I was out of gas, shit. I happen to pull up alongside a huge Ford Diesel truck with a large camper on it. It quickly became apparent there was no cell service but as a fool I got out of my vehicle holding up my cell phone running around like a lost squirrel in the snowstorm.
'No fucking service,' I swore to myself and wandered back toward my truck, now thoroughly soaked.
'Can I help you,' a dark form spoke up from the open door of the camper next to my truck.
'New truck, out of gas, no cell service,' I responded sarcastically. 'Sorry, just had a bad day,' I quickly apologized for my rudeness.
'Well I hate to make things even worse for you but, the highway just closed,' he said sympathetically. 'And you are soaked through. Best come on in I've got the heat turned on.'
'Oh, well I can sit in my truck for awhile.'
'Don't be silly, come in,' he insisted holding the door open for me.
'Name's Dan,' he said sticking out his hand.
'Bill,' I replied, 'and thanks.'
Dan was about my seize and age, mid fifties with a full head of hair just starting to gray. Good looking with a rugged outdoor physique. He was wearing a set of blue sweats and fuzzy slippers. Oh well.
'Have you got a change of clothing in your truck?'
'No,' I replied realizing I was shivering quite badly by now.
'Better change into these,' he said handing me a set of green sweats, 'while I make some coffee. Can't have you dying on me, besides your dripping on my floor.'
Standing on the rubber entrance mat I quickly undressed and handed my wet clothing to Dan who hung them in the bathroom. Dan smiled when he saw the regimental tattoo on my left shoulder and before I was completely dressed, he showed me his tattoo on his forearm, an anchor.
Turns out we were both retired military men. Soon we were telling each other stories of our time in the forces. And Dan pulled out an exceptionally fine bottle scotch and spiked our coffees to make things even better. The stories became a trip down memory lane for the both of us. In the space of two hours we became friends.
Dan rustled up a fine Moose stew for supper with a couple of bottles of beer. We were having a great time.
We swapped cell phones and began showing each other photos of our kids and wives on our cell phones. Dan stopped at one photo and he muttered, 'Now there's a fine-looking woman.' He turned the phone toward me, and it was one of a series of nude photos of Jan, my wife I had forgotten were on the phone.
'Sorry Dan,' I stammered, 'I forgot about those,' reaching for the phone.