You've probably never
heard of Sam Preston.
I didn't till one rainy night in spring
a couple of years back.
I was barreling along
Highway 6
into the foothills of the Rockies
in a 30 -ton diesel
carrying about 20 tons of high
-octane gasoline.
It was pretty windy, too,
as I recall,
but even though the visibility was not so good,
I had to make time on account of that
flat I had outside Omaha.
Almost midnight, and I wanted
to get to a diner
and get some cof fee
because I needed it pretty bad.
I was having trouble staying awake.
I've been doing these long hauls
for about 15 years now,
but I never made this route.
Anyway, I'm doing about 50,
and staring at the white
line in the highway,
an d rain is splashing off
the windshield,
and the wipers are
going lickety -split.
And then I saw him.
Now, I'm not one to pick up
hitchhikers.
You never know. Might be a hijacker.
Besides, we got orders not to.
I got a glimpse of him as I went by,
and, what the devil,
here's an old guy
out in the storm and no raincoat,
and it's a good 10 miles to anywhere.
So I hit the brakes hard,
an d I could feel all that gasoline
sloshing around in the big tank,
piling up the weight behind me.
But I pumped the brakes till I stopped
and then waited for him to catch up.
Boy, was he soaked.
He swung up into the cab
and dropped into the seat.
Thanks, fella, he said.
Here, I said,
and I handed him a towel
that I always keep handy for washing
and shaving.
Before I even asked him,
he tells me he was out walking
and got caught in a storm.
Wasn't going far, he said,
but every little bit helps.
Seemed like a gentle old guy,
gray hair and all.
Used to be a driver himself,
so he knew all about trucks and long
hauls.
Said he stopped driving about 10 years ago,
and now he had a part -time job.
Didn't tell me what it was.
His name was Sam Preston.
Anyway, he knew the roads,
and we talked some every so often,
I'd glance over at him.
The lights from all the dials
on the dashboard
gave him a funny look,
like he was sitting there in a
kind of a misty glow.
And his voice was like a whisper
that somehow cut through
the noise of the motor.
Those diesels make quite a racket,
you know.
Oh, he asked about my kids,
which was pretty strange,
since I didn't recall saying
anything about him.
Well, after a while, he
told me
that the place he got off
was just a little ways ahead.
and so I started to slow down.
Just before he got out,
he told me about a diner
that was about two miles up ahead,
but said to be careful
because of a hairpin turn
just before you come to it.
The curve was not so bad,
but this time of year,
there might be rock slides,
especially with all the rain.
He jumped out and thanked me,
and I leaned over to the other side of
the cab
to thank him for the tip,
but I couldn't see him.
An d just like that, he was gone.
I didn't see any houses.
So, about ten minutes later,
I ran into that hairpin turn,
and it was a good thing I was taking it easy,
because there in the road ahead
was a great big rock slide,
just like Sam said there might be.
I left the lights on,
and I jumped out.
The truck couldn't get by,
and I'd have to call the main office.
I crawled over the big boulders,
and I saw the lights of the diner.
Just then,
a state trooper car drove up
and told me they'd have a
bulldozer there in a couple of hours
and I could get through then.
So I went over to the diner.
I made the call
and the dispatcher was pretty
nasty.
I was pretty nasty back,
too, because all I could think of
was twenty tons of gasoline exploding
and me in the middle of it.
Nothing to do now but wait.
I sat down for some coffee
and told the guy behind the counter
all about it.
I told him that if it hadn't been for Sam
Preston hitchhiking,
I might look something
like those hamburgers he
was frying up.
The counterman dropped a fork
and he looked at me.
Who, he said?
Sam Preston,
I said, lives around here someplace.
Maybe you know him,
used to be a truck driver.
Yeah, that's right,
said the counterman.
Sam Preston was a truck driver.
About ten years ago,
he was caught in a rock slide out there
about where your truck is standing.
He was killed.
