[At a layby on the A3 near Guildford, UK]

“Hello Amy. This is George,” said the driver into his phone after parking in one of the layby’s that provided a place of refuge from the fast moving traffic.

“Just reporting in. I’m done for the day. I don’t have enough driving hours left to get to the clients and then back to the depot. It took an age to get through the roadworks on the A303 the other side of Stonehenge. A sodding camper had a flat and stopped fifty yards short of a pull-in. Did they use it? Like hell they did until the cops told them to move it or their precious camper would be towed away.”

“Not tonight Amy. I’m parked up on the A3 near Guildford. I’ll try to get out of here at first light. I’ll be with you by nine or ten at the latest.”

“Yeah, see you in the morning. I’ll text you when I’m ten minutes out so that you can get the kettle on.”

“What are little sisters for eh?”

He laughed.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

George Perkins hung up the phone. Now that he had called the depot his day was properly done, and he could relax for a few hours at least. He’d been on the road for most of the day with a load of paint. A warehouse near Par in Cornwall was closing down and this load was just one of many that were clearing it. He’d deliver the trailer to a company in Chatham the following morning before heading to his company's depot just a few miles away.

Now that he was not on the clock, George got out of the cab and did a few stretching exercises. He normally did at least fifteen minutes of this every day. Sitting in a lorry cab all day was not good for the figure. So far, he'd managed to keep a paunch at bay unlike most of the other drivers.

George was feeling rather frustrated with his lot at the moment. Most of that frustration was because he'd have to spend another night in his cab. He'd hoped to get home that night but the road traffic gods had other thoughts so he carried on exercising for almost half an hour. All the time, the traffic on the main road zoomed by without realising what was going on just a few metres away.

He was just finishing when a voice from behind him said,
“Bad day, Turkey George?”

The voice slightly startled him. Once he got over the shock, he turned around with a smile on his face. “Turkey George” was an old nickname for him. He knew who it was because of that name.

“Hello Sharon. I didn’t see your rig when I pulled up?”

“That’s because it is back in the shop. The turbo blew up when I was going over the A66.”

“Again?”

“Yes again,” said the woman.

There are not many female long-distance lorry drivers and only a few of them come from the Chatham/Rochester area. Sharon had known George for more years than either of them would admit. They’d met when George had just qualified as an HGV driver. He’d come upon Sharon's rig stranded on a mountain road in mid-wales. A flat front tyre was to blame.

Sharon had been carrying a load of sheep to the local market. George had stepped in and taken her trailer to the market while she waited for the repair people to arrive. Ever since then, they’d become acquaintances rather than friends due to their nomadic lifestyles.

“I’m driving for Templeton’s while my bastard of a truck is being fixed.”

“I saw the logo, but never thought to… Well, I didn’t think that you’d ever go back to them?”

Sharon smiled.

She’d worked for Templeton’s Haulage before going out on her own. She’d left after the son of the owner Rory Templeton had tried to seduce her at the company dinner. She’d poured a pint of beer over his head in front of his father much to everyone’s enjoyment. All those present had laughed at her and that included Rory’s father. This hurt her so she picked up another pint of beer and threw it including the glass at him. That was followed by a loud, “I quit you pervert. No means No!”

Rory had been trying to date her since the first day that she’d started at Templeton’s. Despite reporting his often very inappropriate advances to HR, nothing was ever done about it.

“But why are you working for them again?”

“They have lost a good few drivers in the last few months. Rory took over when his dad had a stroke. No one likes working for him. I only went back because I need the money and they were offering me double time for three weeks’ work.”

“Ok. Just make sure that they pay you promptly.”

“I know. They have lost a number of contracts to…,” said Sharon smiling.
“Oh yes, MacNeil’s. Which happens to be the very company that you work for?”

George smiled.
“I’m just a driver like you. I never worked for Templeton’s. How could I have the inside gen on their contracts?”

Sharon came over to George and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“That… my dear George was for doing whatever it was that you did to Templeton’s.”

George shook his head.
“Sharon, please believe me, I had nothing to do with whatever difficulties Templeton’s are experiencing.”

Sharon’s look told George that she didn’t believe him.

“I’m telling the truth Sharon. I’ve managed to avoid working for Templeton’s. I don’t have any particular beef with them other than from seeing how they treat their drivers. That makes me unlikely to want to work for them but there might come a time when I need a gig and they are the only ones hiring. By not sounding off about them I might get the gig when others would not. Don’t get me wrong, they are the last haulage company I’d work for but sometimes… needs must.”

Then he added,
“Rory Templeton is and always has been a pig, a womaniser and a general bastard. If he takes formal control of the company then I’ll bet you a tenner that they go broke by the end of the year.”

“You are probably correct on that one,” said Sharon.
Then she added,
“Fancy sharing a ‘nuked’ Shepherd’s pie?”

George hesitated for half a second before answering,
“Only if I can bring desert?”

“What do you have?” asked Sharon.

“A couple of those individual apple and blackberry crumbles for one. One minute in the microwave.”

Sharon smiled.
“Deal.”

“Give me ten minutes to get clean and I’ll be with you.”

Sharon started to say something but stopped herself.
“Don’t be late.”

She left George standing beside the road.

George shook himself out of a virtual stupor and climbed back into the cab of his truck. The area behind the driver contained a bed, a microwave, a small fridge/freezer and a large container of water. George washed himself as best he could before putting on a cleanish shirt and a sweatshirt. A quick brush of his hair and he was ready to go.

He climbed down from his cab and locked the truck. Then he unlocked it and climbed back up and into the cab. A few seconds later he got down again carrying the desert for them. Even then he hesitated. He wondered if Sharon wanted more from him than just a desert.

He pushed those thoughts from his mind and headed to the rear of his trailer where Sharon’s truck was parked. She waved at him from the cab. There was no backing out now.

---

[the next morning]

George’s alarm went off at 05:00. The sun was due to rise a few minutes later. For once, the main road was fairly quiet. This was the calm before the storm. In a little over an hour, the rush would start and it wouldn't die down until well after midnight. There had been a little rain during the night, but the sky was clear.

He washed his face and relieved himself in the ‘elsan’ toilet that lived under his bed.

As he pulled down the blackout curtains that allowed him and all other drivers some privacy George sighed. His evening with Sharon had gone on longer than he'd hoped it would. He knew why. He would have done the same. Life for an HGV driver can be lonely. He'd been there many times in his five years as a long-distance driver. Some drivers had it lucky and were able to get home every night but the solo drivers had to go where the work was.

He kept promising himself that 'one of these days…' he'd settle down with a regular job. Then reality struck home and he had to admit that at the moment he rather liked the wandering lifestyle.

George brewed himself a mug of tea and prepared himself for the day ahead. A quick glance at the clock on the dash, told him that it was time to go. He wanted to be at the client's warehouse before they opened for the day at 07:30. Being first there generally meant that he'd be first to unload. If he wasn't there first, he'd have to queue which would put the whole of his day out of kilter before it had even begun.

He started the powerful diesel engine of his truck. While it warmed up, he got out of the cab and checked over the vehicle. Much like a pilot would do before taking off on a flight. He examined the trailer and then the tractor unit. He made a mental note to tell the depot that two tyres on the trailer would need replacing very soon. There was also a slight leak from a brake pipe on the nearside front wheel of the tractor unit. It was due a trip to the workshop for an oil change after this trip. Just one more thing to add to the list of things to fix when he'd dropped off the load.

Sharon’s rig was still there. Her curtains were closed so he didn’t disturb her.

With one last look in the mirror, George swung out onto the main road just as a BMW 3 Series went past him doing close to 100mph. George shook his head and concentrated on driving.

---

[Two months later]

George had just dropped off a load at a company in West Bromwich and was heading back to base with an empty trailer. He was just approaching the M6/M1 junction when his phone rang. The caller ID said that it was Sharon.

“Hello Sharon. Long time no speak.”

“George, I need your help,” said Sharon.

Her voice told him that this was serious.

“What’s up?”

“Templeton’s has gone bust. The bailiffs have just impounded my tractor.”

“Bummer. Where are you?”

“Northampton Services on the M1.”

George laughed.

“I’m about twenty minutes away.”

“I guessed as much,” said Sharon.
“I saw you turning off the M6 a couple of hours ago as I headed south,” said Sharon reading his mind.

“Ok got you. See you soon.”

George hung up the phone wondering what was going to happen next.

---

Sharon was waiting by the side of her now impounded truck. A black uniformed man was standing beside her. George assumed that he was one of the team of Bailiffs that were in the process of re-possessing the truck.

After getting out of his cab, he went over to her.

“This is not good, is it?” he said.

Sharon tried to smile.
“It isn’t but there you go. At least they let me wait for you. They did want to take it and all my stuff right there and then.”

“Your things are your things. They can’t take them otherwise it would be theft.”

“That’s what I said. I threatened call the Police when I remembered seeing you heading for a drop off. One hour they said and they would be off with my stuff.”

“I’m here now. Lets’ get your things transferred to my truck and we can get out of here.”

Five minutes later, Sharon climbed into the cab ready to get on her way home.

"What's this?" she said as she picked up a bundle of rags from the floor well.

Before George could answer, Sharon pulled out the items that had been wrapped in the bundle.

She grinned and looked at George.

George went red, very red in the face.

She took pity on him.

“Just drive George, just drive,” said Sharon softly.

He gripped the wheel rightly and sat there for several seconds before slowly putting the truck into gear and moving away. He drove to a quieter part of the Lorry parking area of the services.

George managed to switch off the engine before bursting into tears.

“George…” said Sharon as she put her arm around him.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he managed to say between wiping his eyes and nose.
“Just wait until you put this on Facebook”

“That’s one thing I am not going to do. I owe you big time for today, George and there is nothing wrong about wanting to wear heels. I like to dress up when I’m not on the road.”

“It is alight for you. You are a woman. I’m not.”

Sharon looked at George and wondered.
“Ever tried to be one?”

He nodded his head.
“It was awful.”

“Then we shall have to try harder then.”

“A good way for you to get laughs?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I owe you. I never repaid you for rescuing me in Wales and then today. Why should I want to make a laughing stock of you?”

George didn't answer but kept staring ahead. He was too ashamed to look at Sharon.

Sharon knew that she was going nowhere with George for a while.

“I’m going to get us something to drink. Don’t go anywhere.”

George didn’t answer, so Sharon got down from the cab and headed towards the Coffee 'Drive Thru'.

---

George was still sitting there with his hands on the wheel, when Sharon returned with the drinks.

“Come on George. Snap out of it. It isn’t the end of the world. Let us just pretend that I never saw those shoes. Now can we get out of here?”

George slowly turned his head.
”Sharon, what do you want from me?”

“George, I want nothing more than to be friends. Proper friends. Not the sort who meet every few months at some roadside rendezvous.”

“Why? Why me?”

Sharon smiled.
“For starters, we both know how difficult it is for people in our line of work to have relationships. We understand each other on that point. Don’t we?”

George nodded his head.
“I can’t offer you anything. I live in a studio flat. I don’t own a car or anything.”

Sharon laughed.
“Much the same here. Why not try being friends with someone who would like to get to know the real you in time, not today, not tomorrow. Only when you are ready, only when you are comfortable with me?”

George had no answer for her. He knew that he was in a corner. He kept thinking… 'if only I had cleared up before…'. He didn't, and now the damage was done.

He said nothing. Instead, he started the engine and left the service area. He said nothing for the rest of the journey. Sharon saw the look of determination on his face and didn’t press him into talking.

---

The incident with Sharon and the 'heels' had broken the ice between them. Slowly they began to trust each other. Almost a year later, they moved to a new two-bedroom flat. While they continued to drive for different companies, their time together became their release from the stresses of their job.

Eventually, she got George to let her give him a makeover. When he saw the new ‘her’, she cried. She didn’t look that bad for a forty-year-old.

One year later, they married. On their wedding night, they raised a toast to all the other truckers who were not there but out on the road and keeping the nation fed and watered. The other 'George' came to the fore during their honeymoon, but was put back in the box when normal life resumed but continued to make discrete appearances for Sharon’s eyes only.

[the end]
This story was inspired by the chorus to ‘Wish you were here’ by Pink Floyd.

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl year after year
Running over the same old ground, what have we found?
The same old fears, wish you were here.


Sharon and George were the two lost souls but are no longer running (or should that be driving?) over the same old ground.