We don't spend much time thinking about truckers, which is strange considering that everything we eat, wear, and plug into our walls was at one point entrusted to their care. Well, Cracked tracked down Donec Quis and Mallory Spline, two of these noble "freeway cowboys," to ask them what it's like to be the platelets that carry nutrients down the arteries of America. After they corrected us (apparently plasma cells carry nutrients, and "freeway cowboys" is the dumbest thing they've ever heard), we discovered that ...
#5. Everyone on the Highway Is Boning
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Our nation's highways are so full of people fillin' 'er up that it's a wonder our species hasn't died in a massive orgiastic pile of twisted metal and bared flesh.
And truck drivers can see all of it.
"How about closing the sunroof so we don't have to smell all of it, too?"
"Every truck that passes you has a driver perched comfortably on the summit of Mount Watch-You-Fuck," Quis told us. "So whether you're into highway head, roadway romps, slingin' salami, or the two-finger tunnel run, know that you will be seen."
Truckers and comedy writers share a love of sexual euphemisms.
"I passed a guy once who was on the receiving end of a very energetic cock gobble. For the briefest of moments our eyes met, and he smiled as if to say, 'Yup, she's blowin' me.' I've seen a woman who was so far into her own snatch that she had one leg propped against the dash ... My all-time favorite, though, belongs to the greatest old man ever. When I say old, I don't mean he's a little past his prime, either. This dude was easily on the losing side of 60, and he passed me beating his dick like it just spray painted graffiti in Singapore."
This stuff is so common, Spline says that "one of the best ways to spot a newbie truck driver is when they blow up the CB radio by calling the action like Howard Cosell*: 'He's past third and heading for home!'"
Fat chance. Nobody could call road sex like Cosell.
*Dear younger readers: Howard Cosell was a baseball commentator.**
**Dear nerdier readers: Baseball was something like Quidditch, but much more homoerotic and played while secretly on drugs.
#4. The Truck That You Think Doesn't Belong on This Road Probably Does Not Belong on This Road
Have you ever been driving along some twisting back road only to get nearly run off a corner by some 80-foot mega-beast that surely has no business being on that road? Well, it probably didn't have any business on that road, and that trucker wasn't an asshole, he was a spider: He was more scared than you were. It's hard to imagine anyone getting thoroughly lost in the days of smartphones and GPS, but that's not always the best option for a trucker:
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Plus, the highway patrol is really leery of sextant navigation.
"The primary reason trucking companies want us using GPS is because they plot the absolute shortest route possible, regardless of how efficient or safe," Quis told us. "But believe me, shorter does not equal quicker." His GPS once led him down a street that "a pickup would have trouble turning around in," and he ended up knocking over a streetlamp without even realizing it. Trucks aren't supposed to go into residential areas, but at the same time, they often have to make deliveries to residential areas.
Spline ended up in a worse situation. Near where she lives in Oregon, there's a road called the 242, which (on paper) is the shortest route between Sisters and Eugene -- but in reality, it's not a route you can take with a truck. But your GPS doesn't know that, and if you don't do your own research, you'll be slaloming a metal whale across a winding highway that even sport bikes have trouble taking at speed.
Paweł Kuźniar, via Wikipedia
"Just shift down to third, wuss. You'll be fine."
#3. Yes, Prostitutes and Drugs Are Everywhere
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If you've ever been to a truck stop, you've probably interacted with a prostitute and not known it. Or absolutely, unquestionably known all about it. It really depends on the subtlety of the prostitute. "Lot lizards" are a permanent fixture at most depots, and will work in conjunction with drug dealers and pimps to keep professional rambling men buried in their chosen vice. Spline told us this story:
"The dude I was driving with -- he and I were, well, you know -- and there was a knock on the door. Turned out to be a prostitute who wanted to know if we wanted extra company."
That's how bold the lot lizards are: They see you right in the middle of boning, and they still try to sell you some boning.
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There may be worse ways to earn rent, but we sure as hell can't think of any.
The dealers use the CB radio waves -- that's the thing you use to holler "10-4, good buddy" and sing "Convoy" and then say "I'm sorry, I'll stop now and never use it again" -- to advertise "white smoke" (meth). When the cops show up, truckers repay the favor by telling the lot lizards where they are, sometimes letting them hide out in their truck until the heat dies down.
Which makes sense, because the cops are way more interested in nailing the women than the johns. That's something they've got in common with the johns, actually.
Of course, after spending all your time at a rural truck stop, jail is probably welcomed relief.