I drive a Mega Cab for a living. I broke my only safety…
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I drive a Mega Cab for a living. I broke my only safety rule, and now the road signs are repeating.
To understand what is happening, you need to know exactly what occurred last Thursday night.
The storm was unrelenting. Water pounded against the windshield so aggressively that the wipers could barely clear the glass on their highest setting. Driving a massive rig in those conditions requires absolute concentration. The asphalt was slick, and the darkness stretching out beyond the headlights was absolute. There were no streetlights, no other vehicles, and no signs of civilization for hundreds of miles. Just the endless stretch of flat desert terrain being drowned by the downpour.
Long-haul drivers have a golden rule when navigating empty stretches of road at night. You never pull over. You do not stop for stranded motorists, or pull onto the shoulder to check your tires, and you absolutely do not open your doors for strangers. If someone is broken down, you call the highway patrol and keep rolling, because Stopping puts you in a vulnerable position.
My headlights cut through the sheets of rain, illuminating the reflective paint on the asphalt. The tires hissed loudly against the flooded road.
Something caught the edge of the high beams up ahead.
A large object was resting on the muddy shoulder of the highway. As the Cab closed the distance, the shape became clearer. It was an old, rusted car. The vehicle was completely mangled, crumpled inward with terrifying force, and was wrapped entirely around a tall wooden structure.
I slowed the Cab down slightly, squinting through the rain-streaked glass. The wooden structure was a carved totem. It stood perfectly upright in the desert dirt, which made absolutely no sense. There were no historical sites or reservations anywhere near this specific highway. The totem looked entirely out of place, standing like a silent sentinel in the mud. The front end of the rusted car was smashed directly into the center of the carved wood.
Standing near the crushed bumper of the car were three people.
A man, a woman, and a teenage girl stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the pouring rain. The headlights washed over them, revealing the horrifying state they were in. Their clothes were shredded and plastered to their bodies. Dark red blood covered their faces and hands, washing away slowly in the relentless downpour.
The man raised his arm, waving frantically at my approaching Cab. The woman just stared blankly at the road. The teenage girl was shivering violently, clutching her stomach, looking absolutely terrified.
My foot hovered over the brake pedal. The golden rule screamed in my mind. Keep driving. Pick up the radio, call the state troopers, and get away from the wreck.
But seeing the teenage girl changed my mind. She looked incredibly young and entirely defenseless. Leaving a bleeding child on the side of a flooded desert highway felt fundamentally wrong, so in the end human empathy overrode my training.
I engaged the air brakes. The Cab hissed loudly as the speed dropped. The tires gripped the wet asphalt, bringing the Mega Cab to a complete stop a few yards ahead of the accident.
Leaving the engine running, I leaned over the center console and unlatched the passenger door. The heavy door swung open, exposing the warm cabin to the freezing wind and rain.
"Get in!"
I yelled over the deafening sound of the storm.
"Climb inside before you freeze!"
The family did not hesitate. The father grabbed the door frame and hoisted himself into the cab. He pulled the teenage girl up behind him, and the mother followed last. They crowded into the passenger area, bringing a sudden rush of cold air and dampness with them. The father pulled the door shut, sealing the cabin.
The sound of the storm was instantly muffled. The heater blasted warm air across the dashboard.
I turned on the overhead dome light to get a better look at their injuries. They were completely soaked. Water dripped from their hair onto the upholstery. The blood on their skin looked strangely dark, almost black in the yellow cabin light.
"Are you all right?"
I asked, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the backseat and handing it to the father.
"Do you need an ambulance? I can try to raise dispatch on the radio, but the signal out here is terrible."
The father ignored the paper towels. He sat rigidly in the seat, staring straight out the windshield into the dark highway.
"Drive,"
the father said.
"Look, you guys are bleeding pretty badly,"
I reasoned, trying to keep my voice calm.
"I need to know if anyone has broken bones before we start bouncing down this road."
The father slowly turned his head toward me. His face was covered in dark, matted dirt and dried blood.
"Drive,"
he repeated, pointing a stiff finger directly at the windshield.
I looked at the mother. She was sitting perfectly still, staring at the dashboard from behind us. She did not acknowledge my presence. I looked at the teenage girl. She was huddled against the window, her face pale and expressionless. None of them were shivering anymore.
The situation felt incredibly wrong, but sitting idle on the shoulder of a dark highway with three injured strangers felt worse. The priority was getting them to the hospital.
"Alright,"
I said, putting the Cab into gear.
"There is a massive truck stop about forty miles up the road. They have an emergency medical clinic attached. We will head there."
I pressed the accelerator. The massive diesel engine roared, and the Cab pulled smoothly away from the shoulder, merging back onto the empty road.
For the first few minutes, the cabin was completely silent. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the slapping of the windshield wipers.
I tried to break the uncomfortable silence.
"What happened back there? Did you crush into that wooden post?"
No one answered. The father kept his eyes fixed forward.
That is when the weird things started.
The Cab’s climate control system was working flawlessly. The dial was turned all the way into the red zone, blasting hot air from the vents. Despite the heat, the temperature inside the passenger area began to drop rapidly.
A sharp, biting cold emanated directly from the three passengers. I could see my own breath pluming in the air.
I reached out and adjusted the vents, aiming them directly at the family. As my hand passed near the father's hand, I noticed something strange.
The rainwater dripping from his torn suit was not soaking into the fabric of the seat. The water droplets were freezing. Tiny beads of solid ice clung to his jacket and hair. I looked at the teenage girl through the mirror near the window behind us. Frost was actively forming on the glass right next to her face, spreading outward in intricate, jagged patterns.
"The heater is on full blast,"
I muttered, mostly to myself.
"Why is it freezing in here?"
The mother slowly turned her head and looked at the radio console. She did not speak.
Then, the smell hit me.
It started as a faint odor, similar to spoiled milk. Within seconds, it intensified into a suffocating, gagging stench. It smelled exactly like roadkill that had been baking in the summer sun for a week. The scent of rotting meat and decaying tissue filled the enclosed space.
I rolled down my driver-side window an inch to let some fresh air inside. The freezing rain blew through the crack, but it was better than breathing in the putrid smell.
"Look, I do not mean to be rude,"
I said, keeping one eye on the slick road.
"But what exactly were you guys doing out here? Did you hit an animal?"
The father remained perfectly silent. The ice on his collar was thickening.
I felt the sudden anxiety in my stomach. The silence, the freezing temperature, the smell of decay, none of it made rational sense. I focused my attention entirely on the road, eager to spot the glowing signs of the truck stop.
We drove for another ten minutes. The headlights illuminated the rain-slicked asphalt ahead.
A large object appeared on the right shoulder of the highway.
As the Cab closed the distance, the object became distinct. It was an old, rusted vehicle, crumpled inward with terrifying force. The vehicle was wrapped entirely around a tall, carved wooden totem standing upright in the mud.
My foot instinctively eased off the accelerator.
I stared at the wreck as we rolled past it. It was the exact same accident scene. The same rusted metal, carved wood, the exact same dark mud scattered across the asphalt.
"That is impossible,"
I said aloud, my heart starting to race.
"We just drove away from that wreck ten minutes ago. We have been traveling in a straight line at sixty miles an hour."
I glanced at the dashboard. I tapped the screen of the GPS navigation unit.
The screen was completely glitched. The map had disappeared, replaced by a gray grid. The digital arrow representing my Cab was spinning wildly in circles, unable to establish a heading.
I looked up through the windshield. A green reflective mile marker passed by on the right side of the road. Mile 142.
I kept my eyes peeled. Two minutes later, another green sign appeared in the headlights.
Mile 142.
The road signs were repeating.
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
"What is going on here? Where did you people come from?"
I turned to confront the family directly.
They were no longer looking at the windshield. All three of them had turned their heads and were staring directly at me.
The overhead dome light flickered, casting sharp shadows across their faces. Their flesh was decaying right in front of my eyes. The skin on the father's jaw slid downward, peeling away in wet, gray strips to reveal yellowed bone underneath. The mother's eyes had collapsed into dark, empty sockets. The teenage girl's face was completely skeletal, her jaw hanging open in a silent, horrifying scream.
The stench of rotting meat became completely unbearable, burning the inside of my nose.
The father leaned slowly toward me. The ice cracking on his suit sounded like snapping glass. His jaw moved stiffly, and a raspy, echoing whisper filled the cabin.
"We need a replacement to stay in the loop so we can go home."
Panic exploded in my chest. I stomped on the brake pedal, intending to skid the Cab to a halt and bail out into the rain.
The brake pedal did not move. It felt like stepping on a solid block of concrete. The pedal was completely jammed.
Before I could react, the steering wheel jerked to the left, slipping right out of my grip.
The Cab swerved across the wet asphalt. The steering column locked itself into a sharp turn. The tires screeched, losing traction as the massive vehicle hurtled toward the center median of the desert highway.
Rising out of the darkness in the median was a massive, solid concrete pillar supporting an old overpass.
"No!"
I yelled, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, trying desperately to yank it back to the right.
The wheel would not budge an inch. The father had reached out with his skeletal hand and clamped his decaying fingers directly onto the steering column. His grip possessed an impossible, unyielding strength.
The concrete pillar was growing rapidly in the headlights. We were seconds away from a devastating collision at sixty miles an hour.
I could not steer, or brake.
I kept my left hand gripped tightly on the steering wheel, desperately fighting the ghost's immense strength. With my right hand, I reached down into the narrow gap between the driver’s seat and the center console. Truckers keep emergency gear within arm's reach for situations like this. My fingers found what I was looking for and wrapped around the rubber handle of a steel tire thumper.
I pulled the metal bar up and swung it hard across the cabin. I aimed directly at the father's skeletal arm. The steel smashed into his decaying wrist with a loud crack.
The impact broke his iron grip on the steering column. The ghost-father released a raspy, vibrating shriek and lunged toward me, reaching for my throat.
I swung the steel bar a second time, striking him squarely in the chest. The force pushed him violently backward against the passenger door.
I did not give him a chance to recover. I leaned entirely across the center console, ignoring the freezing cold radiating from his rotting body, then grabbed the passenger door latch and yanked it open.
The door swung wide, catching the rush of wind from the highway.
I planted my right boot directly into the center of the ghost's chest, then pushed outward with every ounce of strength and adrenaline I had left.
The father tumbled backward out of the moving Cab. He hit the wet ground with a sickening thud, disappearing instantly into the darkness behind the vehicle.
The moment the father was ejected from the cabin, the mother and the teenage girl simply vanished.
I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and used every ounce of strength I had to force it back to the center.
The Cab responded. The tires squealed as the vehicle corrected its trajectory, veering sharply away from the looming concrete pillar.
We narrowly missed the solid concrete. Instead, the heavy front bumper blasted directly through a decaying wooden barricade set up near the edge of the median.
The Cab launched off the pavement, crashing down into a deep, muddy ditch. Mud and dirty water sprayed across the windshield. The rig plowed through the soft earth, slowing down rapidly until it finally ground to a violent, jarring halt.
The engine choked and died.
I sat gripping the steering wheel, gasping for air. My chest heaved as adrenaline coursed through my veins.
The only sound left was the rain drumming against the roof. The smell of rotting meat was already starting to fade, blowing out through the shattered passenger window.
I grabbed my flashlight, kicked my door open, and climbed out into the ditch. The rain soaked my clothes instantly. I waded through the deep mud, inspecting the front of the Cab. The bumper was dented, and the grill was packed with dirt, but the radiator was intact, and the engine block was safe.
I climbed back up to the road and shined my flashlight around the area.
The concrete pillar was gone, and the wooden barricade was gone.
I was standing on a completely normal, straight stretch of desert highway. There was no carved wooden totem anywhere in sight. There was no rusted vehicle.
I walked back down into the ditch, climbed into the driver’s seat, and turned the ignition key. The diesel engine sputtered for a moment before roaring back to life. I locked the differential, put the transmission into a low gear, and managed to slowly reverse the heavy Cab out of the muddy ditch and back onto the solid asphalt.
I drove for another two hours without seeing a single vehicle. Eventually, the glowing signs of a commercial truck stop appeared on the horizon. I pulled into the brightly lit parking lot, parked near the fuel pumps, and locked the doors.
I did not sleep that night. I sat awake, watching the rain fall against the glass until the sun finally came up.
That was four days ago.
I managed to drive the Cab back to my home state. I had a mechanic replace the shattered passenger window and detail the interior. They shampooed the seats and replaced the cabin air filters.
But the Cab is not clean.
Yesterday afternoon, a mild thunderstorm rolled over my town. I was sitting in the driver’s seat, filling out some delivery paperwork, when the first raindrops hit the windshield.
Within thirty seconds, the temperature inside the cabin plummeted. I could see my breath pluming in the air.
Then, the smell returned. The distinct, putrid scent of decaying meat began seeping out of the vents.
I grabbed my keys and ran out of the vehicle, locking it behind me.
If anyone reading this forum knows how to genuinely cleanse a vehicle of a spiritual attachment, please contact me immediately. I have tried burning sage, leaving salt on the floorboards, and nothing works. The cold always comes back when the rain starts.
Until I find a solution, the Cab stays parked in the driveway. And if I cannot find a way to get the rotting smell out of the upholstery, I am going to have to burn the entire rig to the ground.
#entertainment
source
To understand what is happening, you need to know exactly what occurred last Thursday night.
The storm was unrelenting. Water pounded against the windshield so aggressively that the wipers could barely clear the glass on their highest setting. Driving a massive rig in those conditions requires absolute concentration. The asphalt was slick, and the darkness stretching out beyond the headlights was absolute. There were no streetlights, no other vehicles, and no signs of civilization for hundreds of miles. Just the endless stretch of flat desert terrain being drowned by the downpour.
Long-haul drivers have a golden rule when navigating empty stretches of road at night. You never pull over. You do not stop for stranded motorists, or pull onto the shoulder to check your tires, and you absolutely do not open your doors for strangers. If someone is broken down, you call the highway patrol and keep rolling, because Stopping puts you in a vulnerable position.
My headlights cut through the sheets of rain, illuminating the reflective paint on the asphalt. The tires hissed loudly against the flooded road.
Something caught the edge of the high beams up ahead.
A large object was resting on the muddy shoulder of the highway. As the Cab closed the distance, the shape became clearer. It was an old, rusted car. The vehicle was completely mangled, crumpled inward with terrifying force, and was wrapped entirely around a tall wooden structure.
I slowed the Cab down slightly, squinting through the rain-streaked glass. The wooden structure was a carved totem. It stood perfectly upright in the desert dirt, which made absolutely no sense. There were no historical sites or reservations anywhere near this specific highway. The totem looked entirely out of place, standing like a silent sentinel in the mud. The front end of the rusted car was smashed directly into the center of the carved wood.
Standing near the crushed bumper of the car were three people.
A man, a woman, and a teenage girl stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the pouring rain. The headlights washed over them, revealing the horrifying state they were in. Their clothes were shredded and plastered to their bodies. Dark red blood covered their faces and hands, washing away slowly in the relentless downpour.
The man raised his arm, waving frantically at my approaching Cab. The woman just stared blankly at the road. The teenage girl was shivering violently, clutching her stomach, looking absolutely terrified.
My foot hovered over the brake pedal. The golden rule screamed in my mind. Keep driving. Pick up the radio, call the state troopers, and get away from the wreck.
But seeing the teenage girl changed my mind. She looked incredibly young and entirely defenseless. Leaving a bleeding child on the side of a flooded desert highway felt fundamentally wrong, so in the end human empathy overrode my training.
I engaged the air brakes. The Cab hissed loudly as the speed dropped. The tires gripped the wet asphalt, bringing the Mega Cab to a complete stop a few yards ahead of the accident.
Leaving the engine running, I leaned over the center console and unlatched the passenger door. The heavy door swung open, exposing the warm cabin to the freezing wind and rain.
"Get in!"
I yelled over the deafening sound of the storm.
"Climb inside before you freeze!"
The family did not hesitate. The father grabbed the door frame and hoisted himself into the cab. He pulled the teenage girl up behind him, and the mother followed last. They crowded into the passenger area, bringing a sudden rush of cold air and dampness with them. The father pulled the door shut, sealing the cabin.
The sound of the storm was instantly muffled. The heater blasted warm air across the dashboard.
I turned on the overhead dome light to get a better look at their injuries. They were completely soaked. Water dripped from their hair onto the upholstery. The blood on their skin looked strangely dark, almost black in the yellow cabin light.
"Are you all right?"
I asked, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the backseat and handing it to the father.
"Do you need an ambulance? I can try to raise dispatch on the radio, but the signal out here is terrible."
The father ignored the paper towels. He sat rigidly in the seat, staring straight out the windshield into the dark highway.
"Drive,"
the father said.
"Look, you guys are bleeding pretty badly,"
I reasoned, trying to keep my voice calm.
"I need to know if anyone has broken bones before we start bouncing down this road."
The father slowly turned his head toward me. His face was covered in dark, matted dirt and dried blood.
"Drive,"
he repeated, pointing a stiff finger directly at the windshield.
I looked at the mother. She was sitting perfectly still, staring at the dashboard from behind us. She did not acknowledge my presence. I looked at the teenage girl. She was huddled against the window, her face pale and expressionless. None of them were shivering anymore.
The situation felt incredibly wrong, but sitting idle on the shoulder of a dark highway with three injured strangers felt worse. The priority was getting them to the hospital.
"Alright,"
I said, putting the Cab into gear.
"There is a massive truck stop about forty miles up the road. They have an emergency medical clinic attached. We will head there."
I pressed the accelerator. The massive diesel engine roared, and the Cab pulled smoothly away from the shoulder, merging back onto the empty road.
For the first few minutes, the cabin was completely silent. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the slapping of the windshield wipers.
I tried to break the uncomfortable silence.
"What happened back there? Did you crush into that wooden post?"
No one answered. The father kept his eyes fixed forward.
That is when the weird things started.
The Cab’s climate control system was working flawlessly. The dial was turned all the way into the red zone, blasting hot air from the vents. Despite the heat, the temperature inside the passenger area began to drop rapidly.
A sharp, biting cold emanated directly from the three passengers. I could see my own breath pluming in the air.
I reached out and adjusted the vents, aiming them directly at the family. As my hand passed near the father's hand, I noticed something strange.
The rainwater dripping from his torn suit was not soaking into the fabric of the seat. The water droplets were freezing. Tiny beads of solid ice clung to his jacket and hair. I looked at the teenage girl through the mirror near the window behind us. Frost was actively forming on the glass right next to her face, spreading outward in intricate, jagged patterns.
"The heater is on full blast,"
I muttered, mostly to myself.
"Why is it freezing in here?"
The mother slowly turned her head and looked at the radio console. She did not speak.
Then, the smell hit me.
It started as a faint odor, similar to spoiled milk. Within seconds, it intensified into a suffocating, gagging stench. It smelled exactly like roadkill that had been baking in the summer sun for a week. The scent of rotting meat and decaying tissue filled the enclosed space.
I rolled down my driver-side window an inch to let some fresh air inside. The freezing rain blew through the crack, but it was better than breathing in the putrid smell.
"Look, I do not mean to be rude,"
I said, keeping one eye on the slick road.
"But what exactly were you guys doing out here? Did you hit an animal?"
The father remained perfectly silent. The ice on his collar was thickening.
I felt the sudden anxiety in my stomach. The silence, the freezing temperature, the smell of decay, none of it made rational sense. I focused my attention entirely on the road, eager to spot the glowing signs of the truck stop.
We drove for another ten minutes. The headlights illuminated the rain-slicked asphalt ahead.
A large object appeared on the right shoulder of the highway.
As the Cab closed the distance, the object became distinct. It was an old, rusted vehicle, crumpled inward with terrifying force. The vehicle was wrapped entirely around a tall, carved wooden totem standing upright in the mud.
My foot instinctively eased off the accelerator.
I stared at the wreck as we rolled past it. It was the exact same accident scene. The same rusted metal, carved wood, the exact same dark mud scattered across the asphalt.
"That is impossible,"
I said aloud, my heart starting to race.
"We just drove away from that wreck ten minutes ago. We have been traveling in a straight line at sixty miles an hour."
I glanced at the dashboard. I tapped the screen of the GPS navigation unit.
The screen was completely glitched. The map had disappeared, replaced by a gray grid. The digital arrow representing my Cab was spinning wildly in circles, unable to establish a heading.
I looked up through the windshield. A green reflective mile marker passed by on the right side of the road. Mile 142.
I kept my eyes peeled. Two minutes later, another green sign appeared in the headlights.
Mile 142.
The road signs were repeating.
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
"What is going on here? Where did you people come from?"
I turned to confront the family directly.
They were no longer looking at the windshield. All three of them had turned their heads and were staring directly at me.
The overhead dome light flickered, casting sharp shadows across their faces. Their flesh was decaying right in front of my eyes. The skin on the father's jaw slid downward, peeling away in wet, gray strips to reveal yellowed bone underneath. The mother's eyes had collapsed into dark, empty sockets. The teenage girl's face was completely skeletal, her jaw hanging open in a silent, horrifying scream.
The stench of rotting meat became completely unbearable, burning the inside of my nose.
The father leaned slowly toward me. The ice cracking on his suit sounded like snapping glass. His jaw moved stiffly, and a raspy, echoing whisper filled the cabin.
"We need a replacement to stay in the loop so we can go home."
Panic exploded in my chest. I stomped on the brake pedal, intending to skid the Cab to a halt and bail out into the rain.
The brake pedal did not move. It felt like stepping on a solid block of concrete. The pedal was completely jammed.
Before I could react, the steering wheel jerked to the left, slipping right out of my grip.
The Cab swerved across the wet asphalt. The steering column locked itself into a sharp turn. The tires screeched, losing traction as the massive vehicle hurtled toward the center median of the desert highway.
Rising out of the darkness in the median was a massive, solid concrete pillar supporting an old overpass.
"No!"
I yelled, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, trying desperately to yank it back to the right.
The wheel would not budge an inch. The father had reached out with his skeletal hand and clamped his decaying fingers directly onto the steering column. His grip possessed an impossible, unyielding strength.
The concrete pillar was growing rapidly in the headlights. We were seconds away from a devastating collision at sixty miles an hour.
I could not steer, or brake.
I kept my left hand gripped tightly on the steering wheel, desperately fighting the ghost's immense strength. With my right hand, I reached down into the narrow gap between the driver’s seat and the center console. Truckers keep emergency gear within arm's reach for situations like this. My fingers found what I was looking for and wrapped around the rubber handle of a steel tire thumper.
I pulled the metal bar up and swung it hard across the cabin. I aimed directly at the father's skeletal arm. The steel smashed into his decaying wrist with a loud crack.
The impact broke his iron grip on the steering column. The ghost-father released a raspy, vibrating shriek and lunged toward me, reaching for my throat.
I swung the steel bar a second time, striking him squarely in the chest. The force pushed him violently backward against the passenger door.
I did not give him a chance to recover. I leaned entirely across the center console, ignoring the freezing cold radiating from his rotting body, then grabbed the passenger door latch and yanked it open.
The door swung wide, catching the rush of wind from the highway.
I planted my right boot directly into the center of the ghost's chest, then pushed outward with every ounce of strength and adrenaline I had left.
The father tumbled backward out of the moving Cab. He hit the wet ground with a sickening thud, disappearing instantly into the darkness behind the vehicle.
The moment the father was ejected from the cabin, the mother and the teenage girl simply vanished.
I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and used every ounce of strength I had to force it back to the center.
The Cab responded. The tires squealed as the vehicle corrected its trajectory, veering sharply away from the looming concrete pillar.
We narrowly missed the solid concrete. Instead, the heavy front bumper blasted directly through a decaying wooden barricade set up near the edge of the median.
The Cab launched off the pavement, crashing down into a deep, muddy ditch. Mud and dirty water sprayed across the windshield. The rig plowed through the soft earth, slowing down rapidly until it finally ground to a violent, jarring halt.
The engine choked and died.
I sat gripping the steering wheel, gasping for air. My chest heaved as adrenaline coursed through my veins.
The only sound left was the rain drumming against the roof. The smell of rotting meat was already starting to fade, blowing out through the shattered passenger window.
I grabbed my flashlight, kicked my door open, and climbed out into the ditch. The rain soaked my clothes instantly. I waded through the deep mud, inspecting the front of the Cab. The bumper was dented, and the grill was packed with dirt, but the radiator was intact, and the engine block was safe.
I climbed back up to the road and shined my flashlight around the area.
The concrete pillar was gone, and the wooden barricade was gone.
I was standing on a completely normal, straight stretch of desert highway. There was no carved wooden totem anywhere in sight. There was no rusted vehicle.
I walked back down into the ditch, climbed into the driver’s seat, and turned the ignition key. The diesel engine sputtered for a moment before roaring back to life. I locked the differential, put the transmission into a low gear, and managed to slowly reverse the heavy Cab out of the muddy ditch and back onto the solid asphalt.
I drove for another two hours without seeing a single vehicle. Eventually, the glowing signs of a commercial truck stop appeared on the horizon. I pulled into the brightly lit parking lot, parked near the fuel pumps, and locked the doors.
I did not sleep that night. I sat awake, watching the rain fall against the glass until the sun finally came up.
That was four days ago.
I managed to drive the Cab back to my home state. I had a mechanic replace the shattered passenger window and detail the interior. They shampooed the seats and replaced the cabin air filters.
But the Cab is not clean.
Yesterday afternoon, a mild thunderstorm rolled over my town. I was sitting in the driver’s seat, filling out some delivery paperwork, when the first raindrops hit the windshield.
Within thirty seconds, the temperature inside the cabin plummeted. I could see my breath pluming in the air.
Then, the smell returned. The distinct, putrid scent of decaying meat began seeping out of the vents.
I grabbed my keys and ran out of the vehicle, locking it behind me.
If anyone reading this forum knows how to genuinely cleanse a vehicle of a spiritual attachment, please contact me immediately. I have tried burning sage, leaving salt on the floorboards, and nothing works. The cold always comes back when the rain starts.
Until I find a solution, the Cab stays parked in the driveway. And if I cannot find a way to get the rotting smell out of the upholstery, I am going to have to burn the entire rig to the ground.
#entertainment
source
| 2,000 mlx | |
| 4 | |
| 0 |