The Goose That Laid Golden Eggs
Before dawn on Texas Interstate 10.
Under the bluish light of daybreak, a faint shimmer of heat rose from the asphalt.
Buuuuung—
The old Peterbilt 379 truck driven by Korean-American trucker Im Sang-yeop was rolling along at sixty miles an hour.
The low growl of its aging diesel engine climbed up his spine and rattled all the way to his skull.
The cab air was stale with cheap air freshener, the smell of instant coffee he’d been drinking all night, and a faint sting of diesel exhaust.
This rustbucket was Im Sang-yeop’s entire fortune.
He’d bought it secondhand for a pittance and driven it for seven years, but the old warhorse was also his shackle, with three more years of payments still hanging around his neck.
Bruuuum—
As the road rose into a gentle incline, his speed dropped hard to forty-five miles an hour.
Im Sang-yeop shifted down and pressed the accelerator deeper.
Cough—cough, cough!
The engine spat out a wheezing rattle like a man with tuberculosis.
Im Sang-yeop was an independent owner-operator.
He glanced at yesterday’s logbook, shoved carelessly into the dashboard.
Total freight pay: 480 dollars.
Subtract 190 dollars for fuel at 1.10 dollars a gallon, 35 dollars in tolls, and 20 dollars for prorated insurance, and what he actually put in his pocket was 235 dollars.
Goddamn it. Even today, this truck’s fuel tank is eating more than my own stomach.
The big carriers offered him lopsided subcontracting deals that dumped fuel costs, insurance, and maintenance onto the driver.
Still, his stubborn pride wouldn’t let him work under somebody else’s thumb, so he’d chosen this hard life for himself.
Blink—blink—blink—
The fuel gauge on the instrument panel was nearly in the red.
His mind ran the numbers in a flash.
The nearby diesel price was 1.10 dollars a gallon.
To make the remaining four hundred miles today, he needed at least another eighty gallons.
That meant nearly ninety dollars would vanish into smoke inside the engine again.
A deep sigh escaped him when he realized that half of this month’s income had already gone up in fuel.
His family’s faces floated up in his mind.
His daughter’s face, with the worn toe of her sneakers nearly worn through, the big toe almost peeking out, yet not once asking for new shoes.
His wife, always saying she was fine when he called, only to cough in a rush right up until the line went dead.
When he thought of his family, he had to bring home even a pitiful scrap of money.
Without even that scrap, they would truly starve.
“Let’s see...”
Im Sang-yeop pulled a crumpled map from the glove box.
His finger moved slowly over the spread-out paper.
Thirty more minutes down the road, there was a gas station.
But it was a franchise chain, and the fuel there was expensive.
1.25 dollars a gallon.
A full fifteen cents over market price.
No. No way.
He followed the map with his eyes.
Garden Queens.
About a forty-mile detour from his current position.
There, he’d been a customer for over a decade at Lee’s Gas & Service.
The cheapest fuel in the area.
Among Korean-American truckers, the station was already fairly well known.
Im Sang-yeop ran the numbers again in his head.
If he filled eighty gallons at the franchise station thirty miles ahead, 1.25 × 80 came to 100 dollars.
Lee’s Gas & Service was forty miles out of the way, so round trip, that was roughly eighty miles.
At twenty miles to the gallon, the truck would burn four extra gallons.
4 gallons × 1.10 dollars = 4.4 dollars.
Even if Lee’s Gas & Service sold at market price, 1.10 dollars a gallon, that would be 88 dollars plus 4.4 dollars in detour fuel, or 92.4 dollars total.
Even with the detour, it was 7.6 dollars cheaper than buying fuel at the franchise station.
...Right. Even with the detour, this is better.
And the fuel at Lee’s Gas & Service had the added benefit of being good quality, which meant the truck’s engine would last longer.
In the long run, this was far more profitable.
Im Sang-yeop tossed the map onto the passenger seat and checked the fuel gauge one more time.
...I can stretch another fifty miles.
He turned on his signal and pulled off toward Garden Queens.
If he didn’t scrape together every possible cent on fuel, how would he buy his daughter even a pair of new shoes?
* * *
A few dozen minutes later, Im Sang-yeop’s truck rolled slowly beneath the sign for Lee’s Gas & Service.
The station looked far more desolate than he remembered.
The sign was peeling paint and ugly rust, one corner completely broken off and hanging by a single wire, clanking in the wind.
The front window was cracked like a spiderweb, and one corner had been boarded up.
On the glass door, a CLOSED sign hung beside a half-torn red foreclosure notice.
Oh no.
His chest tightened.
So Hyung-nim had it this bad...
They had always sold fuel far too cheaply here.
Still, he’d thought the regular customers would be enough to keep things going.
But the recession and high fuel prices had finally smashed even this station, which had survived on nothing but loyalty from truckers.
Im Sang-yeop felt bitter.
To think a place he’d been visiting for nearly twenty years as a regular would disappear like this.
Then—
“Hey!”
A man came out from the warehouse side.
In his fifties, with a half-bare scalp, sharp eyes, a tall nose, and a square jaw that was almost handsome in its own rough way.
Lee Seonggeun, the owner of the station.
Im Sang-yeop waved back warmly.
“Hyung-nim. You’re not open for business anymore?”
“No, I am. Just for regulars.”
“Huh? Is that really okay, only selling to regulars?”
“It’s my business, isn’t it?”
Lee Seonggeun grinned and motioned him over.
Im Sang-yeop let out a sigh of relief and pulled the truck beside the pump.
Gul-gul-gul-gul-gul-gul...
Fuel flowed into the truck.
About ten minutes passed.
Lee Seonggeun pulled the hose free.
“There. Filled it right up.”
“Thank you, Hyung-nim.”
Im Sang-yeop reached into his pockets.
The moment he was about to pull out a wad of sweat-soaked bills, Lee Seonggeun spoke.
“Ah, and one more thing.”
His voice had suddenly grown a little heavier.
“The fuel price changed starting today.”
...!
Im Sang-yeop’s heart dropped.
Of course...
He closed his eyes.
It was a recession, and fuel prices were high.
All the gas stations in the country were raising prices.
So even Hyung-nim isn’t an exception.
It couldn’t be helped.
Still, it would probably be a little cheaper than elsewhere.
In a shaky voice, he asked, “How much is it, Hyung-nim?”
Lee Seonggeun stared at him for a moment, then grinned.
“Seventy-seven cents a gallon.”
“What?”
Im Sang-yeop thought he’d heard wrong.
At first, he’d assumed the man said one dollar and seventy-seven cents.
That would have at least felt more believable.
But Lee Seonggeun’s pronunciation was perfectly clear.
“I said seventy-seven cents a gallon.”
Diesel was going for 1.10 dollars a gallon, so this was nearly thirty percent cheaper.
Compared to the franchise station charging 1.25 dollars a gallon, it was almost forty percent cheaper!
“Hyung-nim, are you...”
Im Sang-yeop’s voice trembled badly.
“You’re not kidding, right?”
“I’m not kidding. Cash only, though. No cards, and no receipts. The fuel quality’s guaranteed, of course.”
For a moment, Im Sang-yeop was speechless.
The instincts of a seasoned trucker automatically calculated the fuel cost.
The difference between 1.10 dollars and 77 cents a gallon—that was thirty-three cents.
If he filled eighty gallons each time, 80 × 0.33 came to 26.4 dollars.
He could save more than twenty-six dollars in a single fill-up.
If he fueled up five times a month, that was a whopping 130 dollars.
No, since he’d sometimes still have to use franchise stations, it came to almost 150 dollars saved.
One hundred and fifty dollars means...
New shoes for his daughter, hospital bills for his wife, and when he came home, he could bring back fruit instead of walking in empty-handed.
That was an enormous difference.
With trembling hands, Im Sang-yeop handed Lee Seonggeun a bundle of bills and coins.
“Hyung-nim... here...”
“Okay.”
Lee Seonggeun took the money without even counting it and stepped back.
When he started the engine, the truck gave off a smooth, even hum.
Of course, there was nothing wrong with the fuel.
Im Sang-yeop still looked dazed, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
“No, seriously, is it okay to sell it this cheap?”
“What, you’re complaining because it’s cheap?”
“Is something going on?”
“Is that what matters right now?”
Well, fair enough.
Im Sang-yeop thought of all the things he could do with the money he’d just saved.
Tonight, when he got home, he could buy his daughter those new shoes, and tomorrow at lunch he could even take his wife to a decent restaurant and order steak.
He said, “If word gets out about the price here, truckers are going to flood this place.”
“Then spread the word for me.”
“Of course! I’ll be telling everybody at every truck stop I hit! My coworkers are all miserable because fuel prices keep going up!”
“Go ahead and talk it up, but don’t make it too obvious. You know. Keep it vague. You get me?”
Im Sang-yeop understood immediately.
If the wrong kind of people started sniffing around and the police or the IRS came by, it would be a pain in the ass.
They could lose this hidden gold mine.
With a solemn expression, he said, “I’ll tell the other guys not to make it too obvious. Just saying stuff like, ‘If you stop by that station, you’ll get lucky’ should be enough for people to catch on, right?”
Truckers were the kind of people who laughed and cried over a few cents per gallon.
If they found a goose that laid golden eggs, they’d be the ones folding their hands and praying it would live a long, long time instead of doing something crazy like cutting it open.
Brrruuum—
Im Sang-yeon’s truck headed back toward the road.
Before leaving, he looked back once at Lee Seonggeun’s station.
A failing gas station with a foreclosure notice slapped on it.
But in Im Sang-yeon’s eyes, it now looked like a secret base that would give breathing room to freelance truckers who had been suffocating under the weight of fuel prices.
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