Mr. Chalk 8

8

Mr. Chalk stood beside Artie’s big rig at the truck stop in Jacksonville. Artie was talking to Mr. Chalk as he flipped through the pages of his driver’s log.

“Well, this is it partner,” said Artie. “I’m heading north, so you need to grab a ride into town.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” replied Mr. Chalk.

“Don’t mention it,” said Artie grinning, “maybe you can help me sometime.”

Mr. Chalk gave a slight grin. “Perhaps,” said Mr. Chalk, as he turned and walked towards the roadside café.

Mr. Chalk had disappeared into the café when Phil, the resident gas jockey and buddy to all the veteran drivers, walked up to Artie.

“Okay Artie, you got me,” said Phil. The drivers and Phil were always playing practical jokes on each other and Artie knew right away that Phil had just been the butt of a practical joke.

“What happened?” asked Artie, waiting for a good story.

“I was trying to figure out why I couldn’t get fuel into your rig,” smiled Phil. “The fuel pump kept kicking out and I kept having to go back and reset it. On the third try I decided to have a look at the rig tank and damned if it weren’t already full.”

“What!” said Artie, “those tanks should be damn near empty.”

Phil gave a broad smile at Artie. “Ya right, good one,” said Phil. “You had me leaping around your rig like a frog on a hot plate.”

Phil hustled off to attend to another rig while Artie’s gaze slowly drifted from his fuel tanks to the café door.

Mr. Chalk was gone.