Burt and Louise planned the trip for months.  They called it their Retirement Trip. After thirty-five years at the steel mill, he and Louise were ready to head for the open road in the comfort of their new motor home.  It had all the amenities. In fact, it was almost like a small apartment once the slide-out room was in place. 

"Let's go honey," Burt called out.  Louise was in the house for the umpteenth time, checking the windows, plants, and the automatic timer for the lights.  They planned to be gone about a month. 

"I'm coming," Louise said.  She closed the back door, making sure it was locked, and walked out to the driveway.  Burt had the motor home running and was ready to hit the road.  Louise settled into her seat.  She plopped a bag of yarn near her feet in case she got bored. She could finally get that afghan done for Judy their daughter, who was expecting a baby.

Heading out of town, they entered the freeway and breathed a sigh while they stole a quick glance at one another.  Burt was definitely the leader of the pack, and that was just fine with Louise. Their marriage was in the forty-fifth year and this arrangement was part of its success and longevity. 

That first night they stopped at a RV park and enjoyed a light supper and an evening of television.  The motor home was very comfortable with two big comfy chairs and a couch.  The bedroom was cozy with a queen-size bed and big puffy down pillows.  That night they made love and then lay close to one another.

"God, this is wonderful Louise.  I feel a new life beginning for us and we're going to love it.  We have money, the time, and each other.  Doesn't it feel great?"

"It does darling," Louise replied as she kissed Burt and squeezed him.  They both slept soundly that night.

They awoke refreshed and anxious to start the day.  Over the years, Burt and Louise postponed many trips. Now that Burt was retired, they planned to make up for lost time.  This was the first of several trips they planned. They enjoyed coffee and breakfast, then pulled out, and entered the freeway.  As usual, truck traffic was heavy.

One of the amenities installed in the motor home was a CB radio.  Burt had fiddled around with it a bit before the trip, but not much.  Now he turned it on.  The channels were full of static and difficult to understand, so he tried several.  Suddenly, a loud voice boomed from the speaker. 

"Go ahead Weed One," they heard the voice say.  They listened to the trucker talk, enjoying the new experience.  Louise picked up her crocheting and worked on the afghan as they drove.  The CB chatter continued as they rolled along the road, comfortable in the RV. 

"You keep up that kinda drivin' you'll regret it, Bubba," the voice said over the CB.

"Listen to this Louise, someone isn't happy," Burt said.

The CB channel was loud and clear.  "I'll drive any way I damn well please, so shut your face," the trucker replied.

"You'd better watch your backside Bud, I'm coming up on you."

"Burt, where are these guys?  Are they near us?"  Louise asked.

Burt slowed the motor home as he turned the volume up on the CB.  Both he and Louise were intent on the trucker conversation. 

"I don't know, honey.  Unless they identify the truck, it's impossible to know who's talking."  Just as Burt finished saying that, a big double rig roared past them.  He wondered if the driver of that rig was one he heard on the CB.

"You do that to me one more time and you're dead Buddy," the voice said.

"I don't like the sounds of this, Louise.  I sure as heck don't want to be in the middle of this one.  How far did that sign say to the rest stop?"  Burt asked.  Louise noted a tone of urgency in his voice.

"Five miles.  Let's pull in there and take a break," Louise said.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."  Burt noted the odometer. The miles ticked away; one mile, two miles, three miles, four miles.

"There it is Burt, I see it just ahead!"  Louise said anxiously.

The parking area was full of vehicles.  Several eighteen-wheeler rigs were parked and running.  The rest of the parking lot was filled with pick-ups, motor homes, and cars.  Some people walked their dogs, while others read the information posted on the bulletin board.  Burt and Louise got out and stretched their legs.

"You don't suppose they've pulled in here, do you?  Louise asked.

"I don't know.  The CB range is several miles.  I don't know if they were ahead of us or behind us.  Let's just relax for a minute and then we'll start again."

About ten minutes later, they settled into their seats and drove away from the rest stop.  The CB was still on.  An angry, deep voice got their attention.

"I got a bead on your tires Buddy, so you'd better shut up.  And I mean shut up right now!"

"Weed One, you're a jackass.  This Cummins will run right over you any day of the week," the voice replied.  "Try and catch me. You won't be able to." 

Burt and Louise watched each truck closely as they went by.  It was impossible to see if one of the drivers was carrying on a conversation.  The trucks roared by the motor home, one after the other, vibrating the RV as they passed. 

The long climb ahead of them looked ominous.  Trucks were pulling into the right lane, one after the other, as they slowed.  The motor home made better time, so Burt switched to the middle lane.  As they passed each truck, Louise looked at the driver.  It was impossible to tell who was doing all the talking and arguing.

As they rounded a turn, near the end of the climb, several vehicles were pulled to the side.  They wondered what was going on.  People were out of their cars and trucks, peering over the edge.  The elevation was about 4000 feet.  As Louise strained to get a look, she saw smoke coming from the deep canyon off to the right.

"What happened?  Can you tell, Louise?"  Burt asked.

"I'm not sure.  Maybe somebody went over the side.  It looks like something's burning from what I can see of that smoke coming up from the canyon."

Just then, police cars screamed into view.

"Well, I guess that does it, Buddy," the CB voice said. 

Burt and Louise looked at one another and realized they had heard the argument that had ended in a tragic road-rage accident.  Louise strained to get a better look as they passed the scene. 

An eighteen-wheeler pulled off to the side of the freeway, near the accident scene.  The driver was climbing down from the cab.  As Burt drove very slowly passed the rig, Louise was able to read a small, oval, chrome sign on the truck.  It said: "Powered by Cummins."

"Oh my God, Burt!  It has to be him!  He mentioned Cummins engine and that truck has a Cummins logo," Louise said excitedly.

"Honey, there are lots of Cummins engines in these rigs.  It doesn't prove he's the one we heard.  Maybe he stopped to see if he could help."

"Well, maybe," Louise replied.

Burt and Louise settled back and drove ahead.  Louise picked up her crocheting once again.  No words were spoken. Traffic was still heavy with truckers streaming by one after the other.  Another hill loomed ahead.  Once again the trucks began to slow and moved to the right lane. Burt moved to the center lane.  Louise examined each truck, one by one, just a few feet away to her right.

Suddenly, there it was.  She clearly read the chrome emblem, "Powered by Cummins."  As she looked at the driver, he turned to her and took a drag on his cigarette.  His eyes locked on hers as she read the painted name on the door.  A chill went through her as she read it.

In fancy lettering it clearly said, "Weed One."

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