Knight of the Road

Copyright © 2013 J. A. Tipton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4624-0566-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4624-0567-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013905106

Inspiring Voices rev. date: 04/12/2013

Table of Contents

Preface

Acknowledgement

Introduction

1 The Coop

2 Roadside Samaritan

3 Super Slab

4 The Lowlife

5 Learning the Lingo

6 Detour

7 The Mayor

8 Game, Set, Match

9 Bonnie

10 The Invitation

11 The Old Oliver 70

12 The Reunion

13 Floating Above It All

14 The Rocks

15 Bovine Breakout

16 Family Ties

17 Edgewood

18 Horse Sense

19 Jake Brake

20 Ranger’s Mission

21 A Friend’s Betrayal

22 Eric’s Blessing

23 Dearly Beloved

24 The Restoration

25 Turkey Trouble

26 The Honeymoon

27 Thailand

28 Malaysia

29 Singapore

30 Australia

31 The Plug

32 Flying Medics

33 The Olgas and Uluru

34 Kakadu

35 The World’s Wonder

36 Sydney

37 Home

38 Hijacked!

39 Doubly Blessed

Afterword

Glossary

Brin’s Gobs

About the Author

In honor of my father,

who was one of the Knights of the Road

"God first—family second"

Preface

I n the autumn of 2009, my dear father succumbed to cancer. Dad lived a simple, but good life and was devoted to God and family. My father taught us to work hard, to be careful of judging others, and to be truthful in our dealings. He was not a wealthy man, nor was he world-famous, but I could not have wished for a better dad. As children, he would thrill my siblings and me with his amazing acrobatic skills and entertain us with tales from his years as a semi-truck driver. Dad could drive a truck in reverse as well as he could drive it forward and was proud of his safe-driving awards. Dad was also a dairy farmer. He loved the land and he was an excellent herdsman. Dad was a fan of Studebaker automobiles and he was a founding member of the Keystone Oliver (farm machinery) Collectors’ Association of Pennsylvania. After his death, various family members commented that we should have written some of his stories down for remembrance and for sharing with future generations of the family. This book was inspired by those stories which are woven throughout this work of fiction.

J. A. Tipton

Acknowledgement

I would like to express my appreciation to my wonderful husband and our two fabulous children for their support and encouragement. I would also like to acknowledge those who helped me in the course of writing this book. My dear friend, Cynthia Adkins, for her advice and willingness to read the first very rough draft; Margaret Arnold, for her tips on publishing; Elyse Shirley, who chose book editing as a career and who offered her services to me in spite of her busy schedule; and Mary Wayman for her technical advice.

Introduction

A successful, independent, over-the-road trucker and gentleman farmer, Brock Floracion is devastatingly handsome. Brock, who lives a Godly life, is extremely close to his extended family, but has never found the right woman with which to settle down and raise his own children. Brock follows the unwritten code of the chivalrous truckers of yesteryear and has a knack for being in the right place at the right time. He never hesitates to stop and offer help to anyone who appears to be in need of roadside assistance. Little does he know that on one of these occasions stopping to help someone will change his life forever.

Meredith Warner Anderson is the beautiful widow of a war hero. Born into a life of privilege, her parents were careful to raise her into a thoughtful, charitable young woman. Though Meredith finds delight in her two young children, her inner flame has been extinguished by her husband’s death. She has given up any hope of it ever being rekindled, until she meets one of the Knights of the Road.

James Warner, Meredith’s father, is retired and devotes his time to various worthy causes. He has a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous sense of humor.

Eloise Warner, Meredith’s mother, is a successful businesswoman. Her generosity is legendary and her sparkling personality puts everyone she meets at ease.

Brock’s older sister, Brin, is a talented baker who runs a successful catering business. She is devoted to her family and was a source of strength when the Floracion family patriarch fell terminally ill.

Chapter 1

The Coop

W ith the late afternoon sun reflecting in his mirrors, the long-haul trucker was running empty and heading east in the hammer lane. The trucker’s name and hometown were emblazoned on the doors of his custom-painted ‘T2MeToo’—Brock Floracion, Owner-Operator, Johnstown, Pennsylvania. Pride of ownership was obvious. There was not a speck of dust or a bit of tar to be found anywhere on the tractor-trailer. This ‘large car’ was a real work of art, appreciated by other haulers as well as four-wheeled folk. The eighteen-wheeler was black with a sparkling chrome bumper, fenders, and smoke stacks. The head, neck, and forelegs of a rearing, white-winged horse had been beautifully air-brushed on each of the tractor’s doors. The wings on each steed swept back onto both sides of the truck’s sleeper cab. Finally passing the last car in a long line of traffic, the trucker checked his mirrors before signaling and moving over to the granny lane. He had gotten a courteous eyeball blink from the driver behind him indicating it was clear for him to pull over. He always appreciated an alert driver and thanked her with three quick winks of his tail-lights. He guessed that she was probably a trucker’s wife or daughter.

Brock was looking forward to getting home to his small southwestern Pennsylvania farm. He had several fields to plow and the next few days promised to be perfect weather for sod busting. Rounding a bend in the road, he felt a slight bit of irritation as an electronic sign came into view indicating that the chicken coop ahead was still open. His CB buddies had failed to mention that the ‘coop hadn’t been cleaned’ and he silently chided himself for not asking them if it had. Never one to stay irritated for long, life was too short for that, he decided to have some fun with the weigh-master, ‘Old Pete’. The trucker backed off the hammer a bit and as he approached the scales he made his engine grumble and growl as if the truck were overloaded by several tons. Brock stopped just short of the scales for effect and then pulled forward slowly, all the while giving just enough throttle and working the clutch so the Cummins engine sounded labored and appeared to strain under the heavy load. The way he made the rig heave and shudder added greatly to the effect. Old Pete was quick to appear to check the ground pressure and noted the number on the scales. The old man guffawed with a great deal of amusement and exclaimed in his guttural voice Well, by gee! Floracion, you darned rascal—all you’ve got there is a load of dispatcher brains! To punctuate his statement he spat out some tobacco juice, nearly choking on the plug he had nestled in his jaw. Old Pete was one generation short of the old country and had inherited the guttural inflections originating from the Black Forest region of Germany. He had also acquired the habit of speaking with his hands and punctuated each statement he made with brisk arm movements. Floracion flashed a boyish grin at the grizzled weight watcher and said, I thought there’d be nobody home here by now! I’m on my way back from the ‘Gateway’. How’s the Mrs. doing—still making those famous pies of hers and got any? Old Pete responded, Eddie’s doing great, she’s hangin’ in there like hair in a biscuit, though she’s becoming a little forgetful lately. She was a bit put out with me last week. She’s still after me to quit chewin’ ya know. She went so far as to cut up some road apples and put ’em in my pouch of chew. I thought the taste was just a bit off and I had somehow gotten hold of a stale batch, but that wasn’t the case and I’m still chewin’. The old man cast a defiant look in Brock’s direction. And yup, she’s still cooking up a storm! You’re outta luck today though. I just finished the last bite of one of her blueberry pies about a half an hour ago. He stopped to adjust his suspenders then continued, Besides, after that trick, you wouldn’t get any pie anyhow. Floracion grimaced and responded, Well, that’s okay, Pete, I’ll stop at the choke and puke before I hit ‘The Eye’ and grab a bite, though nothing will compare with Eddie’s blueberry pie. Old Pete went back to business and said, Well, we’re getting ’em stacked up here, so you’d best be moving that load of sailboat gas along. I’ll run these guys through and see if they’ve got too many eggs in their baskets and then close ’er down for the day, now that I’ve brightened yours. Remember to keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down! Floracion responded with a salute and a grin, put the rig in gear, and pulled away. He shook his head and laughed at the story Old Pete had just shared with him about the tobacco. Brock had never met Edna or as Old Pete called her, Eddie, but had seen pictures of her. She was a tiny woman who wore wire-rimmed spectacles. Her white hair was done up in tight curls. She looked harmless and innocent, but was anything but. Cutting up dry horse manure and putting it in Old Pete’s chewing tobacco? Now that was priceless.

Chapter 2

Roadside Samaritan

F loracion geared up to merge, but immediately throttled down after he checked his mirror and noticed a slow-moving driver holding up a long line of traffic in the granny lane. The trucker’s attention was suddenly diverted to a silver European sedan traveling way too fast in the passing lane, steam was pouring out from under the hood and he figured this car would be coming to a stop one way or another fairly soon. He wasn’t wrong. As soon as the sedan passed the coffin dodger, the driver swerved the car in front of the slow-paced, silver-tipped coot and came to a sliding stop on the shoulder.

Floracion pulled into the breakdown lane and stopped his rig behind the sedan. He put his rig in neutral, set his brake, turned on the hazards then jumped gracefully from the truck’s cab. As he strode toward the car, the female driver leaped from the vehicle and bolted to the passenger side. She yanked the car’s door open and was struggling to unfasten the belt on a rear-facing car seat. The young woman didn’t even cast a glance in the trucker’s direction as she said frantically, My baby is having trouble breathing! I don’t know what to do! Floracion responded, Okay, ma’am, let me in there. He unfastened the straps holding the child in the car seat and gently plucked the baby from the car. He cradled the infant in his left arm and lifted its tee-shirt with his right hand. The baby’s chest was heaving with effort as she struggled to get air. Her tiny nostrils were flared in an attempt to take in more air and the trucker could hear her making a whistling noise with each inhalation. Floracion looked at the mother and asked, Do you have a nasal aspirator in the diaper bag? She stammered and said, I—I’m pretty sure I do! She began rummaging frantically through the bag and exclaimed, Here it is! Floracion quickly suctioned the baby—an activity the baby clearly did not enjoy as it squirmed, wrinkled its nose, and tried to turn its head away. The baby coughed and began to cry with a great deal of indignation. She settled down quickly and was obviously breathing normally again. She began playing with one of the buttons on Floracion’s shirt. The trucker noticed a wide-eyed youngster in the back seat and reassured him, Don’t worry little buddy, everything’s fine, then he drawled, Well ma’am, I think the tyke will be okay now, but there’s a hospital right off the next exit and you may want to get her checked out just to be on the safe side. You obviously can’t drive your car, so let’s take everything you need and lock it up. It will be okay. I have plenty of room in my rig. Looking up at him, she said, That hospital is where I was headed when my car decided it had gone far enough and, yes, it would be a good idea to get the baby examined. She didn’t hesitate about going with this man that she didn’t know. She instinctively knew she could trust this guy with her life and the lives of her children. Once she had everything collected, Floracion handed the baby to her then picked up the older child and the things the young woman had gathered to take with them. They quickly walked back to his rig. He opened the door for her and gave her a gentle boost into the passenger seat. He carried the older child over to the driver’s side door and climbed inside. There was room for the toddler in the passenger seat with his mom. Floracion put the rig in gear and merged smoothly into the late afternoon traffic. As he drove he told the young woman he would have to notify his dispatcher that he was leaving the highway. He radioed in and explained the situation to his ‘travel agent’. The dispatcher said she hoped everything worked out and asked him to let her know when he was back on the road. The harried young woman looked at the kind Samaritan and said, I’m so sorry to cause you this trouble. Brock smiled reassuringly, It’s no trouble, my trailer’s empty and I’m headed home, but I still have to report my location to my dispatcher. When they reached the appropriate exit, Brock drove down the ramp, turned left, went under the bridge, and followed the blue hospital signs up a hill to the hospital’s emergency entrance. The young woman was impressed with the skill this man exhibited in maneuvering the giant rig through the tight parking lot of the hospital. Brock managed to find a spot large enough to park the truck. It was in a location where it would not block the drive aisle for incoming emergency vehicles. Brock turned on his flashers, jumped from the truck and helped his passengers to the ground. He again carried the toddler while he escorted mother and baby through the double doors leading to the emergency room. They stepped up to the nurse’s station and were greeted by Nurse Marie, a no-nonsense, middle-aged African American woman, who asked why they were visiting the emergency room. The young woman stated that her baby had had a great deal of trouble breathing and that the gentleman standing next to her had cleared the baby’s nasal passages with an aspirator. The nurse moved quickly from behind the desk and gathered the baby gently in her arms, while giving Floracion a stern look and asked him, So, you’re not the baby’s father? Brock shook his head and replied, No, ma’am. Marie looked at Meredith and said, Follow me. We’ll do the paperwork after this baby is checked out. Brock, still holding the toddler started to follow them, but Marie turned and gave Floracion a stern look, Not you. There’s a sitting area on the other side of the nurse’s station. Wait there. The younger woman gave Floracion a trusting look and nodded that it was okay for the toddler to stay with him while the baby was examined.

Floracion found a seat next to the magazine table, sat down, and placed the toddler in his lap before glancing over the table to see if there was anything that might hold the boy’s attention until his mother returned. There were several women’s magazines and a worn copy of Didja Git a Deer Digest. The trucker noticed a small pile of children’s story books on the bottom shelf