Travis had both windows open and the radio blasting. He was headed down 65 to the coast to go fishing. When his hound dog, Lucas, kept nudging his arm, he reluctantly turned the volume down. Lucas licked his arm in gratitude.
Travis was a middle-aged, well-fed, good-natured fellow with long brown hair kept back in a ponytail. Lucas was a big-boned, multi-colored dog who loved Travis, and who enjoyed going fishing as much as his master.
Travis was due for some relaxation. His job at the truck stop was very demanding. He had been changing huge tires for the semis and log trucks that rumbled through, hauling logs, lumber, and boulders to shore up seawalls. Redfish were biting and Travis meant to stock up his freezer, as well as eat fresh fish for the next few days. “Ready to catch some fish?” he asked Lucas, who sat up straight and wagged his tail in anticipation.
Now, Highway 65 is a long, straight road through Tate’s Hell forest. It is so straight and so long, it almost hypnotizes it’s travelers. Travis was approaching this condition, when he spotted two figures on the side of the road. When he got closer, he realized it was a man and a woman, looking hot and tired. He almost passed them, but thought better of it when he realized they had many miles to go and probably wouldn’t make it to civilization before dark.
He pulled up next to them and offered them a ride, expecting them to load up into the back of the truck. But before he knew it, they had climbed into the cab, squeezing poor Lucas up against Travis. “Ain’t you got any air-conditioning?” asked the man.
“No. It broke last week and I’m waiting on a part to fix it,” explained Travis.
The man immediately lit up a cigarette, blowing smoke onto Lucas, who coughed and whimpered. “You got to put that out if you’re gonna ride with us. My dog don’t like smoke,” Travis said.
“Aw, he’s just a dog!” sneered the man.
“And this is my truck. You can’t smoke in it.” Travis replied.
The man muttered some obscenities before putting out his cigarette.
At this point, Travis realized the pair reeked of sweat, alcohol, and something like gasoline. Travis leaned over towards the window, so the fresh air would blow in his face. Lucas, on the other hand, kept sneezing and wriggling closer to Travis. “I shore wish your dog would settle down,” complained the woman.
“Put him in the back!” added the man.
Travis knew he couldn’t stand the odoriferous pair much longer. Lucas looked at him and seemed to be thinking the same thing. There had to be a way. “Hey, are yu’all thirsty?” Travis asked.
“Got any beer?” the woman inquired, hopefully.
“Just Coca-Colas and bottled water,” replied Travis.
“Guess that’ll have to do!” groaned the man.
Travis pulled over to the side of the road. “Yu’all look in that cooler in the back and get whatever you want. There might be a wine split way down at the bottom, if you look,” he suggested.
So they climbed up into the truck bed to check out the cooler. “I don’t see any wine splits,” complained the woman.
“Keep looking!” yelled Travis as he pulled back on to the highway and picked up speed.
“Hey! What’s the idea!” hollered the man, while Travis chuckled to himself. Meanwhile, Lucas got up and looked at them through the back window. He barked a few short happy barks before laying down on the seat and stretching out. Later on, Travis would swear he couldn’t tell if Lucas was barking or laughing!
