Entering Nevada, I find the biodiesel station I intended to fill up at has closed – tears! So now I’m forced to load up on stinky, horrid diesel. The clerk makes me come into the station to give her cash – s.o.p. (standard operating procedure) NOT! Usually, over the intercom, they ask my biz name (Its Her Business), truck number (#1); license number and state (sunny California). I go in and ask her how come she’s making me come in.
She smoothly declares “New policy.”
I retort: “Oh? Since when?”
“Some time now.” she snidely responds.
Our matching fake smiles broaden even more, I issue my rejoiner: “Like since I drove in?”
“Oh no!” she denies loudly, glancing behind me at the growing line.
I don’t believe her but I hand her my money anyway. I could go to the next station but I’ve been traveling on fumes wanting to make it to biodiesel. Several truck drivers come up to me, mostly men of color, and express their approval of my signs, their disgust with bush, their eagerness to vote in the election.
The rest of Nevada is very quiet – only 4 yeahs, two from other truckers but the amazing thing is NO fuck yous!!! Not even a thumbs down!
The two covenant “it’s not a choice, it’s a baby” truckers pass silently, even after I flash my “It’s not a choice, it’s a RIGHT!” sign back at them!
