Gary Indiana, a gritty industrial city just outside Chicago, was home to a number of large steel mills. I rolled into Gary on a Sunday evening to load steel the next morning.
I parked at a large truck stop just off of I-80 to get some sleep. Just as I was getting out of my truck to do a safety check, the driver of the Mack parked next to me came back to her truck.
Maggie was a tough old gal around 60 with gray hair in a pony tail, a weathered face, and mischievous eyes. She and her husband had been hauling steel together for many years. When he died of a heart attack a couple of years earlier, Maggie just kept on trucking.
She had a treasure trove of great stories about adventures with her husband. We stood around swapping stories until dark and then climbed into our trucks to get some sleep.
It wasn't long before the whores started coming around. One of them knocked on Maggie's door and said, "Want a little pussy?" She stuck her head out the window and said, "No thanks, Hon. I've got one of my own."