10 Les in the Driver’s Seat

For a few months Keith’s extracurricular activities were inhibited by the presence of an unwanted codriver who insisted that driving truck couldn’t be too complicated if Keith could do it. “Dad always tried to integrate himself into my jobs, but I never expected to see him in my truck. Believe me, it wasn’t my idea. He went out and got himself a commercial license, which meant he could drive anything up to eighteen-wheelers. Then he went to my boss and said he wanted to start a business hauling produce, but first he had to learn to drive truck, and what better way than with his own son?

“I was leaving Seattle when I was ordered to return to the main office and pick up a loaded trailer going south. The boss said, ‘You’ll have a helper. His name is Les Jesperson.’ Was I pissed!”

In an odd reversal of their relationship, father and son drove together for two months, Keith as teacher and Les as student. Their situation provided frequent opportunities for the son to feel superior, and Keith took full advantage. “The first time Dad drove, he was grinding the gears something awful. I tried explaining to him, ‘Dad, the rpms of the motor has to match the rpms of the gearbox. If one’s running faster than the other, it’s not gonna work right.’

“‘No, no,’ he says, ‘it’s not my fault—it’s this goddamn truck.’ Etcetera, etcetera. Just like Dad—he was never wrong.

“I told him what to do over and over, and he still didn’t get it. I said, ‘Goddamn it, Dad, you’re grinding my gears to pieces!’”

“He tried again, and it’s clank clank, clunk clunk, grind and grind. You could smell the smoking plates. I was thinking how glad I was that I didn’t own this truck. It was a dark umber-and-bronze 1984 Freightliner conventional, with a four-hundred horsepower Cummins motor and a thirteen-speed gearbox—too nice a truck to be headed for the junkyard.

“Dad kept making things worse with every shift. I finally blew up and said, ‘Pull this truck over right now!’

“He said, ‘You’re mad, aren’tcha?’

“I said, ‘Dad, I’m way beyond mad. Now pull over and get out!’

“It’s nighttime, we walk to the back of the truck, and he says, ‘Are you pissed, Keith?’ He’s ready for me to jump down his throat.

“I said, ‘Dad, stand there. Just take a few breaths.’ Then I said, ‘Are you all nice and rested, now? Relaxed? Comfy? You’re just fine?’

“‘Yeah.’

“I said, ‘Now Dad, you’re gonna get in the truck, climb into the sleeper, and go to sleep.’

“’You’re not mad, Son?’

“I started laughing. I couldn’t help myself. He says, ‘What’s funny?’

“I says, ‘Think about it, Dad. Remember when you used to say, How many times do I have to tell you something, Keith?—and now I’m telling you the same damn thing.’

“He got into the sleeper, and every once in a while I’d hear grumbling. I said, ‘Don’t get too cozy back there, Dad. We’ll try again in a while. If you keep grinding those gears, I’ll dump you at the next truck stop. It’s a long walk home.’ That felt good. He shut up after that.”

The next day the wrestling bears pulled into loading docks in Watsonville, California, and Keith instructed his father to back the big semi into Door 6. “I went inside and took a leak, and when I came out, the guys on the docks were laughing their asses off. Dad was all cockeyed with the truck. One of the lumpers asked me, ‘Where’d that dude learn to drive?’

“I got in the cab. Dad’s face was beet red, and he was cussing a blue streak. I said, ‘Move over!’ I said, ‘You’re making it more complicated than it is.’ I spent a half hour showing him how to park the rig in the dock. He still didn’t get it. He said, ‘Son, I’ll never be able to drive a truck like you. You act like this is a sports car!’

“I said, ‘Dad, it is a sports car—a seventy-two-foot sports car. You can’t let it drive you. You gotta be boss.’

“He finally gave up. Last thing he said was, ‘That goddamn transmission must have a hundred gears, and I bet I stripped every one of ’em.’

“I was so happy to get rid of him. Driving with him was like driving with women. They enjoy the scenery and I do the work. Now I was free to do as I pleased.”