![]() ![]() How hungry can a man be who has sat in a rig all day, keeping busy with radio and Red Bull? The restaurants offer big man’s meals, all-you-can-eats-chicken-fried steak, biscuits, apple pie. TAs are little shopping centers, catering to folks who live on the road, modern Gypsies, with anything you can think of for your vehicle from oil to mud flaps to little bobblehead dashboard figures of football players and Jesus. He likes to keep on schedule I like to pause for an hour and get the blood flowing in my legs again after hours in the cab of the eighteen-wheeler, inhaling Artie’s cigarette smoke and drinking warm, flat Coke. We’re sitting in a Travel America rest stop, one of the several that we’ve visited on this west-to-east run. “You gonna finish that?” Artie stubs a blunt finger in the direction of my English muffin. ![]()
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