Crazy Trucker by Victoria Red.

This event occurred on a summer evening.

My mother was driving with me and shotgun and my twin sister and my little brother in the back.

We were going to our family's cabin in Western Maryland, four hours away from our home

in Pennsylvania at the time.

Cass and I were 12.

My brother was much younger and asleep in his booster seat.

Camping in Western Maryland was our favorite place, so we were all very excited, including

my mother.

Now the car ride on the other hand was always miserable. It was hot with no

AC in the car, and we didn't have phones back then. So the few music stations we picked up on the radio

that wasn't religious gospel and idle conversation were the only thing that we had for about four

of those hours. So, more often than not, Cass and I would stare out the window, making up stories about the

people we saw and where they were going, and when we drove by truckers, we would try to

get them to blow their horns, which was always very satisfying when they'd oblige.

But that's where the trouble really began.

Cass and I were early bloomers.

So by 12 we were already looking much older than we were, and getting a lot of attention

from older men wherever we went, much to my mother's annoyance.

At the time, we were around two hours away from our cabin, when I made eye contact with

a trucker and put my hand in the tug motion of the horn on

those semi-trucks. He grinned at me and immediately obliged, which made me smile back.

...