By in2other
I drove down the lonely highway in Southern Kentucky. And I do mean lonely. No cars in front or behind, just me in the darkness at 2am, pulling an all nighter to get my meager furniture to my new apartment in Atlanta to start my first real job. A new life, a new city awaited me, and I pushed myself onward. Aside from distant flashes of lightning, it was pitch dark, moonless. To stay awake I tried the radio. It was a small rental truck, a real piece of shit with just an AM. No stations out here, just a crackle of static, but I kept fiddling the dial. Then there was a sudden jolt of lightning much closer, and all at once a radio station came in, a country station. Oh well, I thought, country’s better than nothing. I began to tap my fingers to the music, lame but catchy none the less. I felt very alone out here, and needed to keep myself company, so I began to sing along. I realized I kind of liked the song. I was belting in out when a big truck passed me, the guy in the cab giving me a funny look, no doubt seeing me singing. He blasted past easily. My rental truck was pathetic, the engine sputtering me along at just under 45 MPH. It was hell heading down the Dan Ryan Expressway on my way out of Chicago, getting the finger from people cruising by my sad little truck, in their way even in the far right lane, overwhelmed by the incredible rush of humanity passing me. But now out here, it didn’t matter much that I had no speed. That big truck was the first vehicle I had seen in at least 25 minutes. As I continued to tap my fingers to the music, I began to think about that truck, the guy in it, the kind of guy who liked this kind of music. Redneck trucker, nothing but his sweet ride and the open road. I felt a twinge of envy.
Such a simple way of looking at life, right and wrong, black and white, everything in its place. Would it be so bad, not to think so hard all the time, not live in the gray areas? With my rather useless philosophy degree and the ability to over-think everything, I was accustomed to seeing everything in its most complicated form. To just be, just react, live in the moment and not give a shit…they have it made, those types. Just some good ol country music, a beer or two, a trucker’s cap and the open road. Yeah, that would be kind of cool. How did they become like that? Somewhere out there ahead of me was a guy in that truck, total redneck, a man in charge of his destiny, and there was me, milquetoast Joe average, trying so hard to be the sophisticated hipster with my scraggly goatee and gaunt frame. How did I become what I was? Why wasn’t I meant to be one of them? A man, a real man, comfortable in my own skin. The lighting flickered closer. In my headlights I could see that the trees were whipping, this looked like a serious storm despite the lack of rain. My old childhood fear of thunderstorms drifted back to me. I began to sing again to take my mind off it.
I wasn’t looking forward to my job. All my life I had played by the rules, done well in school, and my reward was to be a grunt on the bottom rung, chained to a desk doing something I felt no passion for. Why was I in such a hurry to become a cog in a machine? Speaking of machines, I thought, this truck was pure shit. No acceleration, the engine sounded like it was going to die any minute. What would it be like to be driving a big rig like the glittering one that had passed me, now far out of sight? Out here on this lonely night, in a dream machine all decked out in running lights, shiny chrome, bed in the back. A rolling castle! Man, I wish I had done things differently, I wish..
There was another flash of lightening, but this was different. It was off in the distance but it hung there, and then to my amazement, it appeared to be hurtling towards me, a ball of lightening. It approached at unnatural speed, coming right at me like it was aiming for me. I gasped as it hit, making the truck shudder violently. The flash was blinding, blue, sending a shock wave through me. I could feel the electricity tingle across my skin, and saw the dashboard flickering as if the energy was pulsing through it in waves, over and back, into the steering wheel and up into my body. I must be dead, I must be! I thought, my mind racing with confusion at what I witnessed. The radio dial turned blue with the eerie light, got louder all by itself, and suddenly there deep bass emanating from the tiny speakers. It sounded like a state of the art stereo. What the hell? I thought. The engine began to purr, a powerful rumble, like there was power under this old hood. I pressed the accelerator and felt a rush of power beneath me. This is more like it! I thought, fuck, this is my favorite song too! The music and words were suddenly familiar. I sang along, finding my voice seeming to be deeper, more baritone. I never realized what a fine voice I had! My gut relaxed, bulging over my belt. That felt good. I belched. I could taste my greasy dinner come back, and I reveled in it. I was wide awake now, in a giddy state, it was like that lightening had given new power to my sad little truck, and to me!
What the fuck? I wondered as the blue flickers of energy were throbbing across the truck’s hood, and I could swear that I could see, in the dark, the fenders of the truck grow outward, flaring, the hood growing longer in front of me, the cab seeming to rise higher in the air. It was as if the truck was transforming before my eyes! I must be dreaming, maybe I’m asleep at the wheel, shit! I thought, rubbing my eyes, realizing my hands were beefy and rather calloused. Something wasn’t right. The dashboard glowed with elaborate controls, the gear shift a shiny wooden knob, the steering wheel growing larger, angled out to a flatter position. My hands gripped the wheel tightly as I tried to comprehend this illusion, and I could feel the muscles in my arms throb, my forearms bursting out in new mass. The sensation rose up to my biceps, rippling and pulsing. Holy shit! I muttered, hanging on to the big wheel as if it was all that was holding me in reality. My skin tingled all over, I could feel hair sprouting on my chest as my collar bone crunched with pain, pushing outward across to form broadening shoulders. I could hear my heart beating, pulsing as if it was pushing new energy through me. I should have been horrified but the feeling was indescribable, a euphoric trance washing over me. My chest heaved, and with each breath seemed to expand, pushing out, as I felt my pecs throb.
I heard the sound of metal clanking and groaning, seeing the hood grow longer still, the headlights brighter and moved to the wide fenders on either side. The sideview mirror was bigger now, and I looked to see the small box truck behind me lengthen, its structure banging like a metal drum as it pushed further back. Running lights blinked to life from along the top edge of the now massive trailer behind me. I was sitting so tall now, high above the road, and I jumped as the bench seat cracked apart and began to form into big bucket seats clad in black leather. I felt the seat cradle my ass like it was custom made for my ever increasing form, which brought me back to attention to my own transformation, keeping pace with the truck’s changes. My belly pushed outward, spilling over my waist just a bit, as my slacks changed color and formed impossibly tight blue jeans over my massive new calf muscles. My groin was now in the act, and I felt it pulsing as I could see my far more ample member just beneath the fabric of my jeans. Oh god damn! I cried out, the music still blaring, the bluish light still flickering all around me, on my skin, on the vast dashboard of the great rig. What is happening! I turned to see the cab pushing back, a new larger space behind me, as the sleeper compartment formed. I nearly drove off the road as I looked at it a bit too long, feeing the gravel of the shoulder rumble beneath my tires. I quickly and expertly steered the lumbering beast back on to smooth pavement.
Gathering my bearings, I watched as my hoodie began to mutate, buttons forming on the center as it split apart, embroidered patterns along the newly forming collar as a western style shirt soon tightly contained my massive, muscled upper body, chest hair visible above the open collar. Sewn on the shirt’s pocket was a name, “Hank”, in cursive writing. Holy fucking shit! I growled, as I accelerated my truck, feeling as if the truck and I were one, built for each other.
I reached up to explore the tingling on my face, feeling thick stubble. I turned on the cab light and looked in the rearview mirror, admiring my stronger jawline, the slightly heavier, rounder face with a ruddy complexion, a bit older looking, perhaps mid 30s, strong straight nose, easy grin. As my eyes turned bright blue, I could see the hipster flat cap on my head beginning to change, the brim growing, the center moving upward, in moments forming a big white cowboy hat with the brim casting a fine shadow across my rugged face. My beard was coming in thick, visibly growing before my eyes. My thick bushy mustache swooped down across my jowls, the beard neatly trimmed. I was fucking handsome! But this was not me. What on earth is going on? I wondered.
I had to pull over, gather my thoughts, see better what had become of me and my shitty little truck. I slowed the big rig to a stop, still no one around, and stared at myself. An Adonis, an impossibly handsome, bearded, trucker. Holy shit! I growled, the voice booming in the cab of my truck. And my truck! I looked around, seeing the leather bucket seats, the chrome trim, everything just awesome, perfect, familiar, my castle. I opened the truck door and climbed down, adjusting my posture to my new massive frame, and walked, swaggered actually, around to the front of the huge rig. Bright red, polished and shiny, huge chrome gas tanks gracing her sides, running lights aglow. Massive fenders, chrome grill, a gleaming treasure of mechanical power. Standing in the headlights I studied myself more, admiring how my tight jeans fit as if painted on, with just enough of a gut to show that I enjoyed life, a good beer or two. I patted my belly, admiring my beefy hands and arms like tree trunks, my ass tight and firm. The last of my changes were ongoing, as I watched my gym shoes form into brown leather, snakeskin actually, intricately carved , pointed toes, the leather moving upward on my calves to fully form boots. My belt buckle grew larger, “Peterbuilt” emblazoned across its silver form. I walked, hearing the heavy boots hit the pavement, stomping my huge feet in victory.
I shook my fists at the sky in gratitude. I am a fucking redneck! I shouted at the top of my lungs. As I did so new memories rushed in. I had a load of furniture to deliver to Atlanta, due first thing in the morning. It was all so clear, so straight forward, all doubts and worries fading from my head as I embraced my simpler thought patterns. I had a duty, a job, and knew I had to get moving. I walked happily to the cab and climbed in. I felt a sense of need, something edgy something I wanted badly. I looked to see a big black sandblast pipe resting in the ashtray, and grabbed it without thinking. In my embroidered shirt pocket was now a leather tobacco pouch. I grinned as I tugged it out, and loaded the big briar as if I had done so a thousand times. I was not surprised to see a fine silver pipe lighter on the dash, and picked it up, flicked it to life and lit my beloved pipe. Much better, I thought, as the nicotine soothed my need. Why had I never tried this before? What an idiot I was, that guy I used to be! I revved the engine, blew the horn, and then took off my hat to take one last look at my new form, rubbing my fingers through my bristly flat top haircut. I grinned and put my hat back on, and pulled out. I was in heaven.
I was going at least 85, the engine purring as if the truck was as happy with its new form as I was, the dashed lines at the center of the road flicking past in my headlights. It wasn’t long before I saw it in the distance; another vehicle, and in short order I was on its tail. A small beleaguered rental truck, bumbling along at about 45. Come on, move it! I thought. I slid over to pass, and as I did so I glanced at the young hipster, a look of bewilderment on his face as I blasted my horn. I laughed, remembering just enough of my philosophy classes to know that the universe must be in balance. At the same moment that I was receiving my great gift, my new life, that poor guy must have felt himself turn from a redneck trucker into a hipster with a crummy rental truck, on his way to a desk job in Atlanta. Looking in my mirror I could see his truck fading back behind me. I was leaving that body and that mind forever. I knew I should feel sorry for the guy, I used to be him after all, but it was all just a memory now, like someone I used to know. I turned up the radio and began to sing. Why think too hard about what life throws at you, just roll with it, on down the highway.