Today is Friday, and whether I have 40 or 100 packages to deliver, it will still be a good day. Just a few quick hours and it will be over. Get through today, and it's the weekend. Of course the weekends always go by way too fast, like they do for everyone, but the interesting thing about this job is that so do the weekdays. This job is like no other that I've had. Every other job I sit around counting down the time until my shift is over. Delivering packages isn't the same. I look down at my watch and can't believe how late it is. Every hour gets there faster than I want. All I can think is, give me 30 more minutes and I can get everything there on time. So the day is quick. It's tough work, but it flies by before I know it.

Unlike the trip to and from Enid, which crawls. I am really light today, meaning I have very few stops (but they are spread out) so I am not too concerned how the day will be. After entering Highway 412, I pull out a granola bar and start on breakfast (eating helps kill time.) A few miles down the road I notice a white mid-eighties Grand Am parked on the side of the road. It would be impossible to miss, and I know it was not there yesterday when I was driving home. Something happened last night to whomever was driving that car, and that is another story from the road that I will never know...

Bob turned off of Highway 177 and into the tollgate. He handed his money to the lady, "I'm entering here," he told her as the sign on the booth requested he did. She took his money without a word. "I'll need a receipt please." A receipt for 75 cents seemed ridiculous, especially since it would take him three months before he got it back. It didn't seem worth the trouble to him or the lady giving it to him. "Thanks." Again, no response, but he couldn't blame her. It was 1:34 AM in the morning, not a particularly good time to be cheerful.

Bob hit the gas and sped down 412 to Enid. If he could get into his hotel room by 2:30 he could get a few hours rest before the meeting in the morning. High sighed to himself. Another day, another meeting. He should've already been in bed. He should've been in Enid hours ago. But like it always did in his business, things didn't work out like expected. Oh sure, he got the deal, and a nice little commission to go along with it, but it had taken too long. The haggling had gone on forever, and now he was tired and just wanted a few hours of sleep. He grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and started munching away. Sunflower seeds helped pass the time on his trip across America.

He spit a shell out the window when his car jolted and started slowing. He dropped his munchies and put the hand on the wheel. Smoke started spewing from under the hood, and he started cursing under his breath as he coasted the car over to the side of the road. He got out and raised the hood. Smoke billowed out and engulfed him. He started coughing and muttered, "Dumb ass," to himself. Bob spent a lot of time alone on the road, and sometimes he talked to himself. He backed away and just stared at the car. "Great. Just great."

Bob knew next to nothing about cars, except when one was dead, and this one was. "Stupid cheap company. Give me an old p. o. s. and expect me to make it halfway across the country. He sighed. This wasn't the first car he had put out of its misery, and if they never bought newer cars, it wouldn't be the last. He looked around. The tollgate was a few miles back, but walking up to one in the middle of the night would probably get him shot. The smoke had started to dwindle so he shut the hood, and grabbed his backpack. It was an essential, filled with emergency items. This was not the first car to die on him. He started walking west, towards Enid.

"All I want to do is get some sleep, and this happens," he said to no one. Bob had tried sleeping in the car one night, his back hurt so bad that he had been bedridden for a week, in a strange town of course. "I'll bet they'll try to blame me for this too!" He wasn't happy.

After about 2 hours of walking and mumbling, and only 3 semis that didn't stop to help, Bob sat down and opened his backpack. He got a drink of water and opened a stick of beef jerky. He heard something and looked around, "Aaugh!" He tried to get up and run, but fell over his emergency supplies. He lay there for a moment, then looked up and rubbed his shoulder. A medium size black dog was sitting on the side of the road with its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. Bob looked at the beast in the limited moonlight, and was sure it was smirking at him. He stood up and brushed himself off, "Well, if you're not gonna attack me when I'm down, I guess your no threat."

Bob tore of a piece of jerky and threw it to the dog. The canine snapped it out of mid-air and chewed on it happily. He studied the dog for a moment. It was probably 50 pounds and jet-black except for a few splotches of white on its nose, chest, and feet. Bob was no expert, but it looked similar to a German Shepherd only smaller and with shorter and sleeker hair. He cautiously stepped up to it and the dog looked at him expectantly. Bob reached a hand out slowly and the dog briefly sniffed, then licked his fingers. Bob petted the dog on the head, then bent down and looked at its collar.

"Appottamox?" he said incredulously. "Is that your name?" The dog just looked at him. "What a strange name for a dog." He stood, "Well, Dog," he was not going to call it Appotta-whatever, "I've still got to get to Enid and get in a bed." He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and started the next leg of his trek.

After a few yards, Bob looked down to see the dog walking beside him, "Lonely too, eh? Well, I could use the company."

Some time later Bob looked down at his watch, it was almost 4 A.M. He shook his head, then continued, "So I've worked for this company for fifteen years. The money is good enough, mostly because I never have time to spend it. I've got a nice house that's already paid for, but there's nothing in it. I never have time to decorate. I'm only home on average of six or seven days a month, and then all I wanna do is relax." He looked down and the dog was looking up at him like it was actually listening. "I've got a brand new SUV in the garage, it has under a hundred miles on it. I put more on it driving it home than I have since." He looked back to the east, the horizon was turning blue, a sure sign that dawn wasn't far away. "I haven't been on a date in years!" he went on. "I mean, I'm not butt-ugly or anything, I'm fairly bright. Look at all this extra money I have at my disposal!" Bob got excited every once in a while when he talked to himself (or to a dog.) He stopped walking, and the dog stopped with him. "I could quit, take a normal job, and live very happily. Maybe even meet a woman." He looked down and the dog was sitting, still looking at him. "I like you, Dog. Do you have an owner, or are you a stray?" The dog said nothing. "If you want, you can come with me and I'll give you a nice home with a huge backyard. Course I can't call you Dog or Appo-something. How about Shadow!" He rejoiced to himself. "You've been my shadow this night, and you're black as night, er, mostly. Yes, Shadow it is."

The dog barked once, eerily, and hollow-like, and Bob thought the dog had agreed, when a car pulled up behind him on the shoulder. He turned around and covered his eyes from the headlights, "He-hello?"

"How are you doing, sir?"

"I'm tired..."

"I'm officer Hendren with Highway Patrol, do you need assistance?"

Bob almost giggled to himself, "Yes! Yes, my car broke down."

"The white Grand Am?"

"Yep."

"Does it need a jump, or anything I can help you with?"

"No, it's dead."

The officer nodded, "I'll take you into town."

"Thank you officer. Can you take my dog to?"

"What dog?"

Bob looked around, Shadow was no where to be seen. He whistled a few times and called out, even trying the name that had been on the tag (as well as he could remember it) but the dog never came. "Goodbye, my shadow, and thank you," he said to himself. Louder he said, "Can you take me to the nearest hotel? I've got a lot of sleeping to do."

"Should I call a wrecker for the car?"

Bob considered for a moment, "Nah, I'll let the people who own it know where it is. It's their problem now."

Officer Hendren opened the back door, and Bob climbed in the patrol car. "Suddenly I like life again," he said under his breath. He smiled to himself, "I am finally gonna live."

My day ends, not as happily as I'd like. There are always a few snags at the end to ruin what could've been a perfect day. But, I am on my way home and ready for the weekend. My girl is coming up, and I can't wait to see her.

As I chew on a sandwich (time passer) I notice a red car (a Laser, I think) on the shoulder that wasn't there this morning. It's about midway between Enid and the tollgate. What happened there? After I pass the I-35 exit, and approach the tollgate to home, I see that the white Grand Am is gone. That was fast, but on this highway I've never seen a car sit on the shoulder long enough to get one of those orange stickers.

Still, I hate to think what happened to those people who get stuck out here on the highway in the middle of nowhere...

© 2009 Ravenai