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High Stakes Haul: The Vegas Trucking Underworld-Episode 7, Rig Trouble

            Iron Horse stood in the large custom shop garage, talking with the owner.

Kali’s Custom Shop was the largest custom shop in Vegas, specializing in anything and everything you wanted or needed. She had been a trusted friend, not only of The Underworld, but also to Esteban, who had known her for ages, even before his move to Vegas.

 Kali was a woman who stood about 5 foot 7 inches tall, had alabaster white skin, long red hair, and a slender build. She was covered in oil and grease, and she smiled as she wiped sweat from her brow as she spoke.

 “Good thing you didn’t need it until now, I really had to do a lot of work to it to make it able to support so much weight. But now you’re telling me that you’re wanting to haul a load of pickup trucks with it?”

 “It’ll make it, Kali, I know this rig better than any of the others that I’ve ever driven, the F-6 is the best truck I have for this job.”

 Kali let out a sigh and shook her head.

 “I hope you know what you’re talking about; I will tell you that I suped up the engine really nice for you. Ha, I think I have you up to around 600 horsepower, that was about as much as I could get out of the engine, even after I did some tinkering to it.”

 “That’ll do just fine, Kali.”

“Yes, but it’s no match for Henry Owens and his Kenworth W900. He really is a dastardly man for doing what he did, invoking the ‘called out’ clause and then the ‘no borrow’ clause; man, I’m surprised he didn’t lock you down too.”

 “I was also surprised, but I was glad that he didn’t: I have a feeling that I have a chance against him with this truck.”

 “Well, it’s ready for you: here’s the keys.”

“Thanks, Kali, this really means a lot to me.” Said Iron Horse as he reached over, took the keys, and walked outside.

 In front of him, backed against the fence at the back of the building, sat a Candy Apple red Ford F-6 that had a 5th wheel built into it, and Iron horse smiled as he walked over to it, got inside, and started it up. The truck had a beautiful low rumble and growl to it as he put it in gear and stepped on the accelerator; he drove down to a car import lot and hooked to the trailer of pickup trucks that waited for him.

 Soon, Iron horse was on the road, and he floored the accelerator on the Ford F-6 truck when he got on his first flat straight, accelerating to speeds of 95 miles per hour.

 Iron Horse laughed and nodded his satisfaction as he reached over and sat the newly installed cruise control, then he reached up, gripped his CB microphone and spoke.

 “Hey, little widow-maker, this is the Iron Horse, come back.”

“Hey, old man, how’s everything going out there?” came Esteban’s voice over the CB radio speaker.

 “Man! You wouldn’t believe it, kid. Kali really fixed me up this time: she made my ole girl stronger, more sturdy, and gave her a boost in horses. I have the cruise control sat at 95 and I’m just sailing. No way Owens wins this, man, no way.”

 Esteban laughed. “If I’ve said it before, I’ve said it a thousand times: nobody can give a semi-truck a makeover like Kali Southern can.”

 “Hey, Iron Horse, this is the Saintpaulia; hey, what road are you on right now?”

“I’m still on 15, about to jump over to 70, why?”

 “That’s not going to work, old man, there’s a big crazy wreck out there as soon as you get off the exit, and it has everything shut down going both directions.”

“Ah, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Said Iron-Horse with a groan of frustration.

 “Not at all.” Cinny answered.

“Thanks for the info, Saintpaulia, I suppose I’ll just have to jump onto highway 91 over to 93 and go that way for a bit until I get past it then. I guess that’s fine anyway, I need to fuel this thing up before I get too far out on the road and there’s not a town around to do it in.”

 “You be careful out at the fuel stop, Horse, never know who might be looking for you just to get the jump on you.” Said Statler.

“You know where I’m stopping if you want to come be my bodyguard for the evening.” Iron horse joked.

 Statler laughed. “No, no, I’m going the complete opposite way that you are, but I would if I could, Vince dog.”

 Iron Horse chuckled. “I know you would. Hey Esteban, don’t you worry about me, besides, I already ran some of Forsett’s crew off, I’m not afraid to do the same to Owens and his goons.”

 About ten minutes later, Iron Horse stood at the fuel stop, fueling his truck up with diesel, whistling to himself as he stared down at his watch.

 He then brought his head back up and scanned the lot, looking around at everything and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

 Iron Horse then saw a little boy running around acting like he was driving a truck, galloping in a circle and making engine sounds with his voice. Iron Horse smiled as the boy’s father, a tall bald black man, came out of the store and lifted the boy up off the ground, carrying him over to a beautiful, green, Volvo VNL, the boy kicking and protesting the whole way, shouting about how he wanted to play truckdriver.

 “Children are a wonderful blessing from the lord, aren’t they, old man?” said a voice from behind Iron Horse.

 “They sure are.” Said Iron Horse.

The next thing the old man knew, he was waking up, lying face down on the pavement, two other drivers helping him to his feet.

 “You alright?” asked one of the men.

“Sure, yeah… not sure what happened to me, honestly.” Iron horse said as he rubbed the back of his head.

 “That man, sir!” said the other driver. “He knocked you in the back of the head with a ball bat and then stole your rig!”

 “What!?!” Iron horse exclaimed as he pushed the men off of him and stared at the empty spot where his truck once was.

“Don’t worry! I saw what he looked like, and the store owner said he was on camera: the police are on their way.”

 “Forget that son, let me use your CB.”

“Sure.” Said the driver, pointing over to a white colored Freightliner Cascadia.

 “In there: it’s already open.”

Iron Horse rushed over to the truck and keyed the CB mic.

 “Little Widow-Maker! Esteban! Are you there, kid!?!”

After a few seconds, Esteban’s voice was heard over the CB speaker.

“Hey! We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the last half an hour, Horse; where are you at?”

 “I’m still at the fuel stop, kid! Somebody jumped me and stole my rig!”

“They what?”

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