It was a morning that I have conquered so many times before without an issue. Waking up at 3:15 in the morning to be at work by 6 is something I have done for 15 years. Driving to the 7-11 every morning to get my fill caffeine and nicotine has made me an expert in morning rituals. So why should this morning be any different? Instead of pulling into the parking lot and trying to maneuver an aircraft carrier into the parking stall designed and built for a Minni Cooper, I, like so many other truck drivers and 18 wheelers park on the side road of 7-11. Parking along the curb, I set the parking brake, grab my wallet and exit my truck. Using the great invention of key less entry, I can leave my truck running and lock it by pressing two buttons on the key pad. Safe and secure, I can walk away from my truck while it idles. Entering 7-11 and greeting the clerk with a "morning" ,I walk back to the machines that dispense this life saving drink that some how gets myself and a million others in this world the ability to wake up. Taking my time to get the absolute perfect combination of sugar and creamer to a 32oz cup of the shakes, I put the lid on my cup and slip it into one of those cardboard sleeves that hold my cup and protect my hands from getting burned. On a first name basis with the clerk from making an appearance every morning, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes without me asking. knowing what I smoke, he rings me up and tells me my total as I ready myself with my debit card. Swiping the card and entering my pin number I Watch the machines screen as it checks the balance in my account, holding my breath and praying to see it say approved. With a receipt printing out, the clerk and I talk for a few minutes to discus anything that might be happening in the world. Handing me my receipt I start walking to the door and catch a glimpse of a man walking in from where my truck is parked. As we approach the double doors at the front of the store simultaneously, we both grab each door and swing it open. Being polite to him I make eye contact and say "morning" to him. Expecting to get at least the same response from him, instead, I'm greeted with "is that your truck out their?" Responding to this tall, beer belly, heavy set, stained covered clothing, obviously a truck driver type of gentleman, feeling in my mind that I'm part of an elite group of people, yea that's my Ford F-350, Superduty, diesel, 4 door, 4x4, long bed, lifted, tinted windows and a sound system that shakes and vibrates the mirrors and dashboard. Staying cool and layied back, I tell him "yea, that's my truck" . At the same time I look over to where its parked, a feeling of violation, helplessness and sick warm over me. Noticing that where my truck used to be parked, is now nothing more than an empty road and an 18 wheeler that was parked across the street. With my heartbeat that pounded hard enough to register a 2.8 on the U.S. Geological Richter scale, I realise that my truck was missing. Walking over to where it used to be parked, my eyes catch the bright flashes of red and blue lights. Taking a second for my brain to process what is going on and my eyes adjusting to the brightly colored lights, a picture starts to emerge from the darkness. With a San Diego County Sheriffs car parked diagonally on the northbound lanes of State Route 67 and a California Highway Patrol parked in the center turn lane facing southbound, I realise they have created a road block. Walking towards the incident that is unfolding on a very busy street, I see my truck completely blocking the two northbound lanes and part of the center turn lane. As I get loser to my truck I see the police with their flashlights trying to look in through a very dark limo tinted window and grabbing the door handle attempting to gain access to my truck. The closer I get to the truck the more the thought of turning around and running back home to hide was crossing my mind. Knowing that they would track me down by running numbers off my truck, I let go of this thought. Reaching the tail end of my truck the sheriff officer looks at me with a very distinct grin on his face and asks "is this your truck?" Not knowing how to respond to him cause I'm still trying to figure out whats going on, I just respond with a dumb look on my face by replying "yes". Hearing the distinced sound of a diesel engine still running, I walk up to my door and punch in my code on the key pad that will unlock my door. As I'm entering the code and opening the door to my truck the officer tells me "I was driving back to the station when I noticed your truck just sitting their, and blocked it so no one would hit it." Climbing into my truck and looking around I notice it was still in drive. With the truck in gear and the parking brake on, the torque of the diesel engine slowly pulled through the brake. The officer not asking me what happened, he just said have a good day and returned to his cruiser. While putting my truck in reverse to back it up off the main road and end a very dangerous situation, I realize that the Highway Patrol officer has followed me off the main road. Thinking he is just getting himself off the road to a safe place, I have a minute to sit in my truck and try to slow my heart rate down and calm myself with a freshly lit cigarette. It became quite clear to me that my embarrassment was not over. With a "good morning" to the highway patrol officer, I was greeted back with "license, registration and proof of insurance!". Getting all my papers together, and seeing now that a handful of spectators were gathering in front of the store. Including the truck driver who I'm sure told the clerk what had happened, do to the smiles and laughter that was coming from the crowd, I gave all of the proper paperwork to the officer. Thinking he just wants to make sure I'm all legal with my driving privileges, I'm asked what happened. Explaining that I just woke up and I'm going to work, the look on his face seemed as if he was leaning in another direction of what happened. Asking me to put my cigarette out and exit my truck. I make sure the truck is in park this time and I step out only to be escorted to the sidewalk. With the crowd growing as more and more people enter 7-11 for the same reason I had stopped for, I'm asked if I had been drinking or doing any drugs. Wishing right about now that I had a stiff drink in my hand, I responded with a "no sir!". Dealing with an extremely bright light shining in my eyes to see if my pupils were reacting like a normal human that puts there vehicle in park, I'm asked if I have any medical conditions. "If you consider being a dumb ass a medical condition, no" I responded. Feeling so stupid in front of the crowed, I couldn't wait for this to be over so I could climb back in my truck where no one could see me through those dark tinted windows. Expecting to be handed back my paperwork at any second, I'm informed that he will be doing a field sobriety test on me to make sure I was in fact not drunk. Passing my test with flying colors, I was handed my paperwork and a "have a nice day!". I never did return to that 7-11, and hoping that what ever 7-11 I do go into, I will not run across the clerk from that other 7-11.
