Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Storage Auction (6)
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I parked the truck at a rest stop with a scenic overlook.
Stepping outside, the cold air filled my lungs.
The distinctive salty scent brushed past my nose.
"Hooah..."
North America's largest saltwater lake sparkled silver under the morning sun.
The vast lake stretched endlessly, looking just like the ocean. The horizon blurred where the sky met the water.
The shores were crusted white with crystallized salt, resembling a fresh snowfall.
Far off, Antelope Island floated like a mirage. Beyond it, the Wasatch Mountains encircled everything like a natural screen.
Scenes like this are one of the perks of trucking.
It was a sight I'd never catch sitting in an office.
I pulled out my smartphone, snapped a few photos, and climbed back into the truck.
It was just over an hour to the logistics center on the outskirts of Salt Lake City.
The long 1,200-mile haul was nearly done.
After unloading at the Salt Lake City logistics center, it was 11 a.m.
Korean food sounds good right about now.
A quick phone search turned up a few Korean markets.
I headed to the biggest one: Korea Plaza Market.
"Welcome!"
The familiar tang of kimchi hit me right at the entrance.
It was always a welcoming, nostalgic smell.
I slowly browsed the aisles.
The ramen section had every variety from back home: Shin Ramyun, Jin Ramyun, Neoguri, Sesame Ramen, Hot Chicken Stir-Fried Noodles...
When did they get so many options?
Just ten years ago, finding Korean ramen in the U.S. was like chasing stars. Unless you were in a big city like LA or New York, they were nowhere to be found.
It really hit home how much Korean culture had spread.
I opened a cooler nearby and found it packed with all sorts of kimchi and side dishes: napa cabbage kimchi, daikon radish kimchi, young radish kimchi, green onion kimchi, mustard leaf kimchi...
Even pickled vegetables and fermented seafood.
"Oh, plenty of kimchi... Let's see what meats they've got."
At the butcher section, pork belly and pork shoulder were neatly packaged.
The pork belly caught my eye immediately.
Grilling some meat while camping tonight it is.
I grabbed three pounds of pork belly right away.
Then I picked up some ssam veggies: lettuce and perilla leaves.
"Whoa, perilla leaves in America."
It reminded me of when I was a kid and my aunt got some perilla seeds to plant in the backyard.
Back then, even Korean markets didn't carry them.
To Americans, perilla was just some unfamiliar herb—too strong-scented for cooking, unthinkable to eat plain.
But to Koreans, nothing beats it as a side dish.
Perfect for wrapping ssam, or tossing into fried rice... Gotta have it.
I stocked up on ssamjang, doenjang, and gochujang from the seasoning aisle.
Couldn't skip garlic, green chilies, and green onions for the pork belly.
Passing the instant foods, I spotted some gimbap.
"That's made fresh this morning."
The clerk noticed me looking.
Pork belly and gimbap? Not a bad combo.
"One tuna gimbap, please."
My basket was full by the time I hit the checkout.
As I unloaded it, the clerk asked,
"Oh, going camping?"
"Yeah, just for the night."
"Things have really improved. When I came to the U.S. thirty years ago..."
The ajumma clerk kept chatting.
"Back then, you'd wait for relatives to bring kimchi from Korea. We made our own gochujang and doenjang."
"Wow, must've been tough adjusting."
"Kids today can't imagine it. Now even Walmart sells kimchi."
It was the usual old-timer story, but spot on.
These days, every big supermarket has an Asian section stocked with Korean foods.
Kimchi's even in the superfood aisle as a health item.
Gochujang's riding the hot sauce wave alongside sriracha.
"Haha, K-pop and K-dramas are really making waves."
"You bet! The world's changed."
BTS put Korea on the map for Americans.
Netflix K-dramas are blowing up worldwide.
After Squid Game, it's not just culture—Korean food's trendy too. Dalgona coffee, tteokbokki, gimbap... all the rage.
I left the market and headed to the campground.
Big Cottonwood Canyon Campground.
Tucked midway up the Wasatch Mountains.
Popular spot, but quiet on a weekday.
"This site's perfect."
I picked the most secluded one and set up my tent.
It was all mine—surrounded by towering conifers.
The sun was dipping low, so I got dinner going.
First, I layered charcoal in the grill and lit it up.
Shhhk—
Twisting the torch valve unleashed a blue flame.
The dry charcoal glowed red fast, popping softly.
I stirred it a few times to keep the fire going, then prepped the ssam leaves.
Washed the lettuce and perilla, patted them dry.
Scooped ssamjang into a small bowl, wrapped peeled garlic in foil.
A little pork fat on the grill makes it extra crispy and delicious.
The coals grew hot, heating the grill.
I tested the heat with my hand a few times.
Then the star of the show took the stage: pork belly.
Sizzle—
The moment it hit the grill, savory aromas filled the air.
Pork fat dripped onto the coals, sending up smoke.
I flipped the first batch.
Perfect golden brown.
Just right.
I sliced the dripping pork and transferred it to a plate.
Layered perilla on lettuce, piled on plenty of meat.
Dipped a roasted garlic clove in ssamjang, added green onion kimchi...
"Bit too greedy?"
Holding the fist-sized ssam, I hesitated—then shoved it in whole.
That's the fun of ssam: stuffing your mouth full.
"Mmm..."
The flavors exploded; my eyes closed on instinct.
Couldn't hold back—I chased it with cold beer.
"Ahh... damn, that's good."
The crisp brew cut through the pork's richness.
Perfect camping combo?
It was solo dining, but not lonely at all.
This leisure, this solitude—it was lovable.
No need to mind anyone, no pressure to chat.
Just me and the vast nature. Food and scenery were enough.
This is true freedom.
One reason I became a trucker: this freedom.
New views daily, alone time, occasional nature breaks like this.
Sunset had faded to darkness.
Stars began dotting the sky.
Mountain night sky, no city lights—a spectacle.
Thousands, millions of stars gleamed like diamonds on black velvet.
It felt like they might rain down any second.
A milky way sliced across the heavens.
The one from childhood science books, now real before my eyes.
The sky's so vast, the universe even more so...
Daily worries seemed petty.
Debt? Money? Future?
Dust in infinite space.
Crackle—crackle—
I added wood to the campfire.
Flames danced upward. Staring into the fire soothed my soul.
"Coffee would hit the spot."
I boiled water in the percolator, made instant coffee.
Cold mountain air contrasting hot brew—perfect.
Pulled out my laptop, checked online.
The WWII photo post from days ago had tons of comments.
One comment stood out.
[My client is interested in this photo. Check your private messages. - M. Bradford, Attorney]
I checked the private message.
A phone number was at the bottom.
Someone looking for family.
Good news.
I'll call on the way back to Texas tomorrow.
Crickets filled the night.
An owl hooted distantly. Wind rustled the branches now and then.
Sounds rare in the city eased my mind.
I leaned back in my chair, draped a blanket, and gazed at the stars.
Has Mom become one of those stars?
She passed when I was three.
Can't recall her face clearly, but she appears in dreams.
Always smiling. Always saying,
My Jae-min, doing well in America, I see.
Damn right, thriving big time.
I muttered to myself and crawled into the tent, zipping into my sleeping bag.
Tomorrow, homeward bound.
Help Dorothy move, hit another storage auction with Bill...
But for now, savor this.
Utah mountainside, under starlight, total solitude.
Next morning, birdsong woke me.
Stepping out, crisp air filled my lungs.
Ate ramen with tuna gimbap, packed the tent.
Fired up the truck and descended the mountain.
Hit I-15 southbound.
Near Dallas, I called Bradford.
"Hello, Michael Bradford speaking."
"Hi, Jake Winch here. Saw your forum message."
"Ah, Mr. Winch! Thanks for calling. Can you swing by Dallas?"
"Right on my route."
"Perfect. Come to my office?"
I punched the address into navigation.
The law office was in a downtown high-rise.
"Mr. Winch, pleasure."
The early-60s attorney offered a handshake.
"My client is Thomas Harrison. His father was a WWII vet."
Bradford showed a faded photo.
"This is the only photo left of his dad. Looks like he's in the one you posted."
He took my photo carefully, examined it, then nodded.
"Yes... that's him."
Pointed to the second soldier from the right.
Definite match to the old photo.
"Mr. Harrison wants it badly. Offers $3,000."
"Of course. Belongs with family."
Handed over the photo and film, pocketed the check, left the office.
It was old and valuable; someone might pay more.
But every item's got a story.
Sometimes, letting it return home is right.
Nice little profit too.
Heading home felt lighthearted.
Austin by evening.
The trailer park was still quiet.
"Sam, I'm back!"
"Safe trip, huh."
"Yeah. Anything happen?"
"Nah. Dorothy moving in?"
"Yep. Next week sometime."
Sam grinned wide.
"Good job. She'll work worry-free now."
Back at my trailer, unpacked.
Called Dorothy.
"Trip go well?"
"Yep. Moving prep?"
"Almost done. Nancy's thrilled—helps pack daily."
"I'll borrow Sam's pickup next Monday to help."
"Thanks so much."
Hung up, sat outside.
Soon, this place'll liven up.
Nancy's laughter echoing, family dinners every night.
Family.
Not by blood, but we will be.
Good things keep coming.
I thought, gazing at Texas's starry sky.