The Importance of Being Ernest
By Erik "The Professor" Koenig
Man is basically a simple creature. We are endowed by our creator with certain characteristics that insure the preservation of our species, not the least of which is the drive to impress a mate with our strength and power. This trait is no doubt a part of our basic need to take care of the "weaker" sex so that she can feel confident in our ability to "protect the nest", so to speak. Well no other single male attribute has contributed to more embarrassing displays of physical prowess than this urge to appear stronger and more confident than we actually are. Here is an example of how trying to impress an attractive female of the species can lead to potentially disastrous results.
I'm a flat-bed tractor trailer driver. Let's just call me Ernest. I work for one of those big companies that use your truck number instead of your name when you're making a check call. Our company pays us a standard $20 tarping fee on every load. Now, as every respectable flat-bed driver knows, it makes a lot of sense to tarp your load after you go ahead and get down the road a little bit. To try and tarp your load right when you pick it up at the shipper means that you might have to move out of the way of other trucks waiting to get their loads. You'll have to find yourself a little corner somewhere so you can chuck your straps over your load without fear of hitting another driver in the head. If the shipper doesn't object, and most don't, you can then maximize your driving time by using the remaining hours of service on your log book to get the furthest distance towards your final destination before you have to stop and tarp. Then you can tarp your load in peace in a truck stop somewhere and then take a shower to wash off the inevitable sweat and grime that is so much a part of the tarping process. Besides, you can then concentrate on getting that perfect "Christmas package" look that flat-bed operators are so proud of. That requires boxes of rubber bungee cords of various lengths, lots of adjustments and fine tuning of your tarp and bungee tension.
One fine autumn day a few years ago, I picked up a mixed load of an unimportant product somewhere on the east coast, Virginia, I think. I quickly secured the load and after getting my bill of lading and making my check call to my company, I went ahead and pulled into traffic headed north up the interstate. I only had a couple of hours on my log book before I needed to stop and take a scheduled "sleeper berth" break and I was hoping to make this truck stop listed as one of our company's authorized fuel stops . As I headed north I kept a weather eye on the horizon and the weather channel on the CB. The product I was carrying was stored in cardboard boxes and was sensitive to the kind of moisture a good ol' southern downpour could really turn into a soggy mess. I was a little concerned with some of the reports I was hearing and so I decided to pull into this rest stop a few miles up the highway.
I saw the sign for the rest stop ahead. I made sure I pulled into the right hand lane and began slowing down by backing out of the throttle and letting the retarding effect of my Jake brake lower my RPM's so I could downshift my way down the off ramp. As I entered the rest stop I saw that one side was reserved for automobiles and the other for "oversize" vehicles which included all semi tractor-trailers. I eased my way into a spot with empty spaces on both sides so I could sling my straps without fear of offending anyone by dropping them onto their head, or more importantly, accidently hitting their rig and thus ruining a cherry paint job. Truckers are so protective of their rigs and the appearance of their rigs that they will spend a large percentage of their weekly income shining, washing, waxing and otherwise preening them and ignoring their own haggard exterior. It would do more to offend another driver if you made a disparaging remark about the appearance of their truck then if you made an insulting remark about their obvious aversion to hot water and soap or if you pointed out that they must have a phobia of razors and shaving cream or a good comb.
Once I set my brakes and made a few notations in my log book I went ahead and stepped down out of the cab and opened my side box. I pulled out a pair of dirty coveralls and shrugged my way into them. I then grabbed my worn gloves and started setting out the instruments of my trade. A strap winch, box of bungee cords and my load bar quickly joined my tarps on the back deck of my tractor. I made quick work of pulling my rear tarp, lining it up beautifully and letting the sides and back drape down over the load and onto the ground. I then turned and opened my front tarp, being careful to set it over the top of my rear tarp to prevent any air during travel from getting under the tarp and ballooning it out. I then climbed down off my load and began the most difficult and important part of any tarp job, tucking and folding the tarp up under the load and securing it quickly with a couple of bungee cords. This all went without a hitch and I stepped back to wipe the sweat from my brow and admire my work so far. That's when the part about me just being a typical man with basic animal traits and desires came and snuck up on me and bit my rather plump rear assets.
I looked over across the rest stop and saw a fancy, expensive looking sedan pull into a space across from me and a beautiful, leggy blond stepped out. She was wearing one of those short skirts, and business jacket tops that signaled all too clearly that she far outclassed me in income and expectation. Even from where I stood holding a bungee cord in my hand I saw that she was "high maintenance". She was holding an open map and looking out towards the highway, shading her eyes with her French manicured hand as she peered at the sign indicating the highway number. The way she kept looking down at the map and up at the sign indicated to me as clear as if she had announced it that she was really lost. Now it is common knowledge that truckers carry a collection of maps and normally aren't supposed to be lost and should have a pretty good idea on how to get somewhere from anywhere. I saw her turn as this understanding worked its way into her thoughts. Based on her posture and the way she held her head I could tell this was an unsavory idea to her. She was going to have to condescend to ask someone on my side of the rest stop for directions.
I quickly looked around and realized that I was the only trucker visible to her and since she was looking in my direction, I feigned indifference and ignorance of her eyes upon me. I went ahead and began hooking my bungee cord into the D-ring on the tarp, stretching it down through the rub rail and then back up to the next D-ring further down the tarp. I hazarded a quick glance in her direction and saw that she had resigned herself to having to ask for help and was headed in my direction across the grassy mall in her inappropriately high heels, which looked like they were punching deep into the turf with every step. Her stride matched her purpose and attitude and I could almost hear her disgust each time her foot pulled her heel out of the grass. I continued to ignore her and reached into my box for another rubber bungee cord. Now here is where it got interesting.
You see this load was uneven. It's common enough of course. Not every load is a perfect cube. This particular load started out higher towards the front of the trailer and where I was currently at in my tarping process the load dropped down a few inches as the product wasn't stacked as high. I ran the bungee cord in my hand from the D-ring on the tarp down through the rubrail and as I stretched it back up towards the next D-ring I saw that it would have too much slack to be very effective. As I realized this I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Ms. Prissy Pants had successfully traversed the grass and was leaning against a light pole while she stood gracefully on one leg and pulled off her other shoe for a closer inspection. I then hastily unattached the bungee cord from one of the D-rings, trying to appear nonchalant, sucked in my ample gut and tried to find someplace that I could secure the hook. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw her look up, sigh, take a big breath and step off the curb. When she almost reached the bumper of my rig I reached a quick decision. I stooped down and hooked the bungee cord to the frame rail that runs underneath the length of the trailer. It was much further than that particular bungee was willing to go and the rubber was stretched to its maximum. It only needed to hold for a few minutes while I devoted my undivided attention to impressing this poor lost woman. I entertained for the briefest of moments the idea that I would bowl her over with my knowledge of the local area and quickly direct her to her destination. Not that she would be in any hurry, after witnessing my brilliant eloquence, my devastating sense of humor, good looks and fabulous tarping job. She would be reluctant to leave my company, and I allowed myself a small smile thinking that she might even leave me her phone number. Later I realized how foolish this all was considering that she probably didn't even know what a tarp was, what it was for and what one was supposed to look like anyway.
As I stood up from hooking my bungee to the frame rail, I turned with my fists on my hips trying my best to look like the flannel bearded guy on the paper towel package. I flashed my biggest smile. Now that I could look at her openly I was impressed with her poise and grace that she conveyed from the mud covered soles of her imported shoes to the obvious disdain on her pouted lips. I started to open my mouth to deliver some brilliant repartee like, "Howdy Ma'am, you look lost. Anyway I could help you find what you're looking for?" Right when I did, I sensed rather than heard the sharp twang of the bungee cord as the hook slipped off of the frame rail and it shot up and out. The hook caught me right between "hairy and the boys" doing what felt like Mach 3 when it made contact with my testicles. The air rushed out of my lungs in an explosive whoosh and as my hands reflexively grabbed for my groin. I snapped forwards, doubling up. In less then a split second after making crushing contact with my balls, the bungee cord tried to reverse direction in order to return to its normal length. The metal hook which caused so much pain as it punched into my groin turned and hooked underneath my scrotum. Then it ripped upwards towards the trailer. Unfortunately for me, I was standing too close to the trailer and as I lurched over from the pain, my forehead slammed into the rubrail that the bungee was wrapped around. I felt a searing blow crunch into my skull and it snapped my head backwards. There was an instantaneous shower of stars and comets and brilliant white lights that would put any fireworks display to shame. I lost my balance and fell backwards, banging first my tailbone and then just so it didn't feel left out, my back landed with the full force of both my considerable body weight and some respectable velocity on some small rocks and glass shards left over from the last poor bastard who was probably doing something stupid to impress a girl. As I lay in the fetal position, my confusion increased. Should I grab and massage my groin, grasp my aching head or roll over and cradle my back? I looked up through tear filled eyes at this typical representative of the female species who was the source of all my pain and caught a look of undisguised fascination. It would have looked more appropriate if she was looking through the eyepiece of a microscope at a slide of pond scum. I pried my fingers from around my testicles and reached up towards her, wincing. I was gulping for air like a goldfish out of its bowl. As I struggled to get a lungful of air, I had to swallow painfully a few times to try and force my balls back down into their scrotum that they fled from after such an assault. A few more gasps and I was able to breathlessly plead, "Howdy Ma'am, my name is Ernest. You look lost. Can I offer you some help with directions?"