Fast and the Furious: Diesel Queen
Chapter 1- Mother Trucker (Slim Pickens Does The Right Thing and Rides the Bomb To Hell)
The road is my home, the sleeper in the back is practically my house. I don't know how long it has been since I've last been home. For one thing, I am an independent. I am always on call to haul whatever you can think of. If you can name it, then I have probably hauled it in a trailer. I am Marina Ethinesikas, my CB handle is 'Lady Lioness'.
If you have figured it out already, I am a trucker and I have been behind the wheel of my 2000 Peterbilt 379 extended hood for ten years. Family wise, my mother is French-Canadian and my father is Greek. So how does someone like me go from playing with dolls to handling a 13 speed overdrive transmission for a 700HP Cat Diesel engine?
I was not like other girls growing up. I am still comfortable in my own skin, and my own clothing. I wear tight jeans and leather while most wore skirts or leggings. Some girls listen to Justin Bieber or One Direction while I was listening to the Metallica and Disturbed. They are still my favorite rock bands. If you must know I am 32 years old. I am 6ft and 200lbs. Hey, I've got the tone, the curves, and the fluff and I am happy with the way I look. I maybe from Canada, but I can be your best friend or worst nightmare.
This teal green Peterbilt is a part of my family. You mess with her, you mess with me. In the side holster of my cab, I carry a Taylor Arms 1887 Bootleg shotgun for personal defense against hijackers and highway robbers. I am not one to carry a pistol as a sidearm when I am going into public. I have earned my Silver Gloves in Savate. It's a fitting martial art for my steel toe boots. I have had my fair share of encounters with hijackers, and this Peterbilt has been through hell and back. She is my pride and my joy.
I was driving on I-10 heading out of Los Angeles hitched to a tanker unit. Those placards on the sides and rear mean that I am hauling chemicals in this unit. I was called up by a mining company in Rio Tinto to transport the unit to the mine. Tanker units are my personal favorite to haul around. Foodgrade units are also a lot of fun to haul.
It was nice to get out on the road. It is never easy trying to drive a fully-loaded rig through the streets of L. A.. When it takes five minutes or more to make a small turn, it is just a pain in the butt for both you and the other drivers that have maneuver around you. When I turn on the CB and guy truckers hear a lady, things can get messy.
Inside my left boot, I carry a knife, a Maxpedition Large Fishbelly Knife. It's my everyday carrying knife for tasks around the rig from opening boxes and wiring to preparing food in the sleeper. My sleeper is a 70 inch Ultra Sleeper. I looked at my side mirrors at the cars going by. There was a little kid in a Dodge Caravan that made the old 'blow the horn' signal. I smiled to him, and saw to his wishes. I think I made his day. When you start seeing less and less cars on the highway, be prepared. They are out there.
I shifted gears, and put the hammer down. I could hear the twin-turbo in the C-15 Cat engine as I was picking up some speed. I have to catch that gear otherwise I can turn into a runaway rig. The highway goes straight for a good portion of my route to the mine. I checked my logbook, and saw what I was hauling. This is very precious and also dangerous cargo. I did not see anything alarming in the mirrors yet, so far the route was going smoothly, as smooth as the skintight leather pants I was wearing for the haul.
It is an 125 mile trip from Los Angeles to the mine. That means there is a lot of highway, and someone is bound to pick me as a target for hijacking. This is the time I love my career, but I hate being right. I looked at my side window, and saw four cars all tuned-up and dressed in black. I soon noticed they each had a CB radio system in their cars.
As they were boxing me in, I looked into my log book and saw my ticket out of trouble and it was in the tanker unit. I tuned the radio knob, and found what appeared to be their channel. I heard a clank and saw someone latching onto my trailer, "Breaker 1-9, breaker 1-9, this is Lady Lioness to the Jet-Pilots, get off my rig," I radioed to them,
"Not a chance, Sweetheart, give us the gas and we'll let you go," said a woman that sounded a little younger than me. I knew it would come to this, and I knew there was a way I can solve this without damaging my truck. I shifted gears, and picked up some speed. That was until I felt something on the back of the trailer, like something else was hitching to my tail. There was an orange Chevy truck. I was under a lot of pressure from the hijackers, and I had to stay calm. I picked back up my CB, and radioed back.
"Well then, here's what I have to say to that, look at the plates on the side of my rig, it says explosives, Tovex, now you either get off my trailer, or I shoot off a 12 gauge and we all to heaven extra crispy," I radioed back to them, keeping my cool. There was a slight pause between my ultimatum to the hijackers, and them. They are probably hacking into my logbook, and yes I am hauling 10,000 gallons of Tovex. That is a water-gel explosive that some mining companies use as a safer blasting agent for minerals.
"That's bullshit," said a male voice on my CB that had a sound of authority to it, I figured it was the leader of the crew. I knew no one was going to believe me, even if I was telling the truth. Now it was time to take action. I shifted gears, and yanked the wheel to turn the rig around since my rig had more power behind the wheel than that Chevy.
I swung the trailer around like a giant steel baseball bat. The tires skipped along the road like a skipping stone on a river. The lady was holding on by a hand, and being thrown around like a ragdoll. I downshifted and hit the brakes to rear end the Chevy to get him off my tail, and break the hitch. At least I will have a tale to tell my client.
"Pull over you crazy bitch!" I could hear her yelling outside on the trailer,
"I'm not crazy, I'm Canadian!" I replied back with a smile, to which I got the one-fingered salute, "oh...oui, oui, I love you too, cherie,"
One of the cars pulled up, and the little flea on my trailer jumped off. I nodded to the crew, and drove off to my destination. I told my client what had happened on the way, "Honestly you're lucky," said my client, "that route is dangerous, but it's good to see you got it the trailer here in one piece," I nodded in understanding and I was paid for my work. I had a feeling I as going to run into that crew again if I drive along that route. The thing is, hijackers are unpredictable. You never know when they are going to strike.
"Well that is what life is all about, yeah? Taking risks," I replied, heading back to my rig with my paycheck in hand. Still, I could not help but think about that hijacking crew I had the pleasure of having a pleasant conversation with on the road. The road trip back home is a long one as I work out of Knightsen, but I feel my relationship with this crew of hijackers is only just beginning. Crews like that do not give up easily, and it is not hard to spot a rig like mine on the open road. I look forward to seeing them again.