Jackknife 4
Chapter 4: Embarkation
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The Ken dolls arrived at Cray and Marie’s place at a decent hour of the morning. It was disturbing they didn’t bother calling to ask for directions, even if only for show.
Cray greeted them at the door and invited them in but they declined, saying there wasn’t time before heading to the airport.
Marie brought Cray’s bags to the front porch. Cray did introductions and instantly regretted it. He could read Marie’s body language and she was put off by the practiced smiles and fancy suits.
Cray gave Marie a quick hug, and she whispered into his ear, not wanting to share her thoughts with the two strangers. She squeezed his arm in place of a kiss. He took his bags and walked to the car. Looking back and waving only as they departed.
Cray, seated in the back of the sedan, had questions but he was going to let the Ken dolls make the first move so as to not look nervous.
He hadn’t taken a flight in years but it seemed rather early. There was still no answer about his appeal for an exception on telephone calls. He also wanted to know how much time he would be able to spend getting accustomed to the truck.
All three men remained silent until they were out of the neighborhood and on the freeway. The Ken doll riding shotgun turned back and engaged Cray.
“Congratulations, we are officially on our way and right on schedule. It is a good start. We’ll arrive at the airport the recommended three hours early, and proceed through security as soon as possible. That will leave some time to kill before boarding if all goes well with check in and TSA.
“Your request for calling privileges to your wife was revisited and approved by our directors. There are some conditions. Calls can only be made from a phone we provide you, you must consent to monitoring and no details about location or expected arrival times may be discussed. Are we in agreement? “
“Yes,” Cray said with a nod, “Thank you.”
Expressing gratitude in this situation felt alien to Cray, it wasn’t of his world. He tried to cover the discomfort, quickly shifting his gaze out the window.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes, but you were doing such a good job of reading my mind I thought I’d give you a first shot at it.”
The talkative Ken doll chuckled mechanically.
“All right, I imagine you are thinking about the activities in Gloucester between when we arrive and before you depart. You want to know when you can get your hands on our flagship truck.”
Cray touched the tip of his own nose with a finger and pointed at the Ken doll.
“You. Right on the nose.”
“That one was obvious. You’re a driver. It is logical you would want to know your vehicle. We’ve set aside some time for practice. In fact, it is stipulated in the contract for you show competence.”
Cray nodded, sat back and put it all out of his mind. He went into puppet mode and accepted these two as his puppeteers. He didn’t have to like it, he just had to get though the show.
Cray’s estimation of his escorts improved a little at the airport. Things had changed a lot. So one Ken doll would go first, showing how things were done and one trailed Cray, stepping in to help when needed. These guys were professional handlers and he was the new toy learning to answer the pull of the strings.
From check in, through all the crowds at arrival, to boarding, he was coddled and prodded and brought along.
It occurred to Cray that if they could drive a semi none of this would be necessary. Surely they could obtain a Commercial Driver’s License—or CDL, as they all called it—one of the hardest things he personally had ever accomplished. That was until he tried getting Marie to trust and eventually marry him, his pinnacle achievement.
Cray, a high school drop out, never mastered the basics of study in his rocky nine years of public school. He wasn’t cut out for the classroom or book study. When the bottom rung jobs for dropouts like him ran dry he let the Army recruiter talk him into an enlistment. It turned out to be as hard to fail out of the Army as it was to stay in public school, which was a good thing. Just what Cray needed at the time. It set him on a new course.
He lucked out in getting special training in the Transportation Division by volunteering for an open position no one else wanted. He started at the very bottom, fetching, cleaning, chipping and painting. He stuck it out long enough to get some peripheral training on the big rigs, watching others be trained. Then the magical day arrived when a truck had to be moved, the driver was AWOL, and Cray lacked the sense to not get involved. He parked the truck perfectly, violating a long list of rules and regulations.
There was a lot of trouble from that incident but an old master sergeant headed for compulsory retirement took a liking to young Cray’s style and took him under his wing. He passed along the accumulated wisdom of a lifetime of service and even gave Cray some driving lessons in secret. Cray was hooked.
When the master sergeant was finally forced out to make way for favored younger personnel, Cray lost his mentor, his training and his tolerance of Army authority. He left the service in his particular style of burning bridges behind him.
Back in civilian life, he looked into getting a driving job. That’s when he first ran into to the CDL barrier. No license, no job.
For better or worse, Cray found a job in the less regulated agricultural sector and started driving farm trucks. Smaller trucks, more tangential work involved, but still driving. There were a lot of lessons learned the hard way and Cray muscled his way through. He knew it was what he wanted to do.
He bought some books, quit drinking, and forced himself to study. It was hard. During this time he met Marie, found out she didn’t like smokers, so he gave up smoking. There were days he thought he would lose his mind. But he persevered. He wanted it all badly enough to conquer his weaknesses. Foul language was the last to go. Can’t pass interviews or deliver packages cursing every other word, he reasoned.
The memories lasted the entire flight across the country. When Cray stopped daydreaming, they were arriving in Massachusetts. The trip through the airport exposed him to the different culture on foot. Fortunately he had escorts to get him to the parking garage.
They picked up another sedan in long term parking and whisked off to the Silver Label Logistics facility. Boston traffic greeted them with a cacophony of honking horns and screaming drivers, a chorus of aggression. Cray was fascinated how hostile they were. It was an education into what kind of traffic creature he might soon be driving through in a new, unfamiliar truck.
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