Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Ordinary Daily Life (3)
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Friday noon, about 30 minutes after pulling onto the highway with the truck.
Suddenly, the warning light on the dashboard flashed.
'Huh?'
I thought it was a glitch at first.
But soon, the engine started making weird noises.
Drumk drrrk
Definitely not the usual sound.
It was like something grinding.
"Damn it..."
I immediately hit the hazard lights and eased the truck over to the shoulder.
The fear of stalling out right in the middle of the interstate gripped me.
My heart pounded.
Drdrk keeek
Thankfully, I made it to the shoulder and came to a safe stop.
Trucks kept roaring past beside me.
Every gust of wind from them rocked the cab, making my heart skip.
Clunk
I killed the engine and got out.
Popped the hood, but I couldn't pinpoint the issue.
"Damn, why today of all days..."
Today's delivery was urgent cargo to a pharma company south of Houston.
Even a little delay could mean liquidated damages.
I pulled out my phone and called roadside assistance.
"Yes, AAA Roadside Service."
"I'm at mile marker 110 eastbound on I-10. Truck's broken down. Need a tow."
"Got it. Nearest tow truck ETA about 40 minutes."
"Forty minutes? Can't you make it faster?"
"Sorry, that's the soonest available."
"...Okay."
A sigh escaped me.
Forty minutes waiting here. And with repairs, today's delivery was toast.
I called Tom.
"Tom, truck broke down on I-10. Can't make today's run."
"What? Jake, this one's really urgent..."
"Tow's 40 minutes out. Factor in repairs... it's not happening."
Tom sighed on the other end.
"Alright. After that favor last time, I'll handle it. We'll shift the load to another rig."
"Really sorry. Gonna put you in a bind."
"Nah, it's fine. Better than a major wreck. Get it fixed right and hit me up later."
I hung up and slid into the passenger seat.
Cars and trucks sped by nonstop outside.
Suddenly, I thought of Nancy and the flowerpot we'd potted a few days ago.
'Jake, we're gonna be rich at this rate!'
Her bright laughter echoed in my ears.
For that moment, it felt like everything would work out.
But another breakdown. How many was this year?
'Still, it's the truck Sam passed down to me...'
Come to think of it, the old girl was 25 years old.
Sam had driven her for over a decade before handing her off.
Worn out, sure, but precious like an heirloom.
"How much longer can you hold on...?"
Time dragged.
About 45 minutes later, the tow truck arrived.
"Over here!"
I waved, and it pulled up.
A burly white guy hopped out.
"What's the breakdown?"
"Engine trouble, sounds off and warning light came on."
"If it's the engine, no fixing it here... Hmm, closest shop's about 20 miles. Truck specialists."
"Yeah, take it there."
The tow op started.
My truck lifted slowly.
Home and livelihood dangling helpless like that.
Felt like her days were numbered. Heavy heart.
[Big Joe's Truck Repair]
A weathered sign, paint peeling badly. Old as dirt, but truck specialists, so I trusted it and went in.
"Hey, can you check my truck?"
A white guy in his 60s turned from inside the shop.
Grease-stained overalls, thick hands. Years of experience showed.
"Hmm... Freightliner FL70. 2000 model?"
"Yeah. Engine acting up."
"Gotta diagnose first. Hour or so."
"Sounds good."
I waited in the lounge, sipping coffee. Clock on the wall said 11 a.m.
Should've been in Houston by now.
Texted Dorothy.
Dorothy's messages eased my mind a bit.
An hour later, the mechanic showed up. Grim look.
"Sir, come take a look."
Followed him to the shop floor.
Truck up on the lift.
"See this?"
He shone a flashlight under the engine.
"Main bearings are shot. Metal shavings everywhere, right?"
Sparkly bits in the black oil.
"Crankshaft's scored too. Keep running it like this... could snap."
"...That bad?"
He nodded, pointing up top.
"Cylinder head gasket's leaking. Oil mixing with coolant. Big issue alone, but..."
He moved underneath.
"Transmission oil pan leak, diff seal gone. Suspension bushings... cracked to hell."
Listing problems made my head spin.
Some I knew, some new.
Bottom line: serious shape.
"Repairs... how long?"
Mechanic tapped his calculator.
"Bearing set $800, crank grind $1,200, head gasket $600, seals $400... labor and oil change, around $4,800."
"...$4,800?"
"Yeah. And that's just what's visible."
He looked awkward adding,
"Honestly... 25-year-old rig, no warranty. Might last a couple months, then who knows."
My stomach dropped.
He sighed at my face.
"What that means is, better to get a new one than keep patching. She's run 25 years. Starts creaking, it'll keep breaking. She's at her limit."
"...Fix the critical stuff first. Need to drive it now."
"Hmm... okay. Bearings, crank, gasket. $2,800."
"Thanks."
Walked to a nearby diner.
Post-lunch lull, quiet. Corner booth, ordered coffee.
"Rough day, huh?"
Waitress pouring, mid-50s woman.
"Truck broke down today."
"Ah, trucker. My hubby drove 30+ years... trucks were hell."
"Still at it?"
"Nah, retired last year. Knees gave out."
Sympathetic smile.
"Hang in there. Truckers got it tough. You got this."
"Thanks."
Sipped coffee, crunched numbers.
After storage auction haul minus Sam's hospital bills: $8,450 left.
Minus $2,800 repairs: $5,650.
'She's at her limit.'
Mechanic's words echoed.
Stared blankly at my phone.
Time crawled.
Drank three coffees.
5 p.m., back at the shop.
"All done. Test drove, runs smooth for now."
"Thanks."
Paid $2,800 on card.
Hand shook taking the receipt.
$5,650 left in the account.
Clunk vroom
Fired her up.
Engine quieter than before. But no telling how long.
"Drive safe. No pushing it."
Mechanic waved.
"Will do. Thanks."
Headed home.
Sun dipping west.
Orange sky, lost in thought.
'$2,800 for maybe a couple months...'
Sure, monthly wear and tear added up.
But first major failure like this.
'Starts creaking, it'll keep breaking.'
His words stabbed.
No escaping it: her time was short.
Heart heavy as a stone.
Home by 7 p.m.
Trailer park lit up. Laughter from Dorothy's.
Getting out, spotted Sam on the porch steps.
Gazing at sunset, turned at my engine rumble.
"Jake? Why so late?"
"Sam..."
Parked and walked over slow.
He sharpened at my face.
"What? Something happen? You look wrecked."
Sharp instincts on me sometimes.
No point dodging. Came clean.
"Truck... broke down."
"Broke? Where?"
"On the way to delivery, stalled on I-10. Towed to shop..."
Sam stood slow.
"Bad?"
"Main bearings gone, crank rough, gasket leaking... buncha issues."
Sam sighed.
"So... bill?"
"$2,800. Critical fixes only... mechanic says maybe a couple months."
"Jake, sit."
Pat on the step. Sat beside.
Silence fell.
Sun vanishing below horizon.
"Jake."
"Yeah?"
"Time to let her go. You know it."
Quiet but firm.
"Sam."
"25 years on that truck. Bought her in 2000. Year before... your aunt passed."
Stared distant.
"Logged miles everywhere. East to West, Canada to Mexico. Seen it all."
"I know. Heard your stories plenty."
"Yeah. Good times. Rode with your aunt, toted Nancy's mom as a kid... all in her."
Hand on my shoulder.
"But memories are memories. Truck's a tool. Tools for the job till they ain't. She's risky now. Stalling mid-highway?"
"But it's yours..."
"Passed to you, yeah. That's why I'm saying."
Looked me dead on.
"Jake, don't cling. I didn't pass the truck... I passed the life. Truck was just the ride."
"Still..."
"When your aunt died, thought of selling her. Too many memories... hurt."
Voice caught.
"But realized: truck ain't it. It's the people here. You, Dorothy, Nancy... meals, laughs, living. That's what matters."
Chest tightened.
"Your aunt'd say: 'Sam, don't cling to the past. Move forward.'"
Pat my back.
"Jake, let her go. Start fresh. Better truck, better future."
"...Yeah."
Sam smiled.
"Truth? I worried. How long you'd nursemaid that old straight truck."
"Really?"
"Yup. Time for next level. Semi-truck."
"...Semi-truck?"