The Secret Diary of . . . Truckin’ Luxon
Truckin’ Luxon led his convoy into the latest town on their exciting road trip, everyone gunning their engines, everyone honking their airhorn, everyone in great and triumphant spirits behind the wheel of their heavy-duty Kenworths, Isuzos, Volvos and other powerful juggernauts that spread their filth over the land.
“Howdy, folks!” said Truckin’ Luxon. He stepped down from his cab and greeted the townsfolk with a winning smile. There was applause, the occasional cheer. They crowded around the convoy, impressed with the clean lines, the thrust, the sense of purpose.
“A lot of gas to run these beasts,” said an onlooker with inky fingers. “What are your costings, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Truckin’ Luxon spread his winning smile a little wider. He had learned from his library of motivational literature how to handle direct questions. There was the old tactic of answering an entirely different question that no one had asked. There was the option of staring at the questioner in the face and dazzling them with a winning smile, and saying nothing.
There was also the idea of just saying the first damned thing that popped into your head, and saying it with conviction.
Truckin’ Luxon was a man of considerable appetite and little discretion. He opted for all of the above, hen he climbed back into his cab, honked the airhorn, and whooped, “Yee-ha!”
TUESDAY
Truckin’ Luxon pulled into the local TV station for a debate with his nemesis, Red Hipkins. Both men understood the importance of the occasion. They had done their homework. They knew what they had to do to impress viewers with their authority and decisiveness. The debate began. “Howdy,” said Truckin’ Luxon. “Hello there,” said Red Hipkins. “Nice to see you,” said Truckin’ Luxon. “Likewise,” said Red Hipkins. They continued in this agreeable vein for 90 minutes until the show finally finished, and Truckin’ Luxon climbed back into his cab, honked the airhorn, and whooped, “Yee-ha!”
WEDNESDAY
Truckin’ Luxon led his convoy into the next town, and saw townsfolk holding up placards that read, WHAT DOES A POSSIBLE NATIONAL-ACT GOVERNMENT LOOK LIKE? and WHAT ELEMENTS OF ACT’S MANIFESTO WOULD YOU ADOPT?
He issued a command to the convoy on his 4g TYT IP-77 Zello sim card walkie-talkie. Everyone gunned their engines, and drove through town as fast as they could.
THURSDAY
Truckin’ Luxon led his convoy into the next town, and saw townsfolk holding up placards that simply read, WINSTON?
He issued a command to the convoy on his 4g TYT IP-77 Zello sim card walkie-talkie.
Everyone gunned their engines, and drove through town as fast as they could.
FRIDAY
Truckin’ Luxon took a picnic break in the Deep South.
It was nice to get away from the noise and smoke of his Mack CL600 with 530 horsepower.
He didn’t mind the emissions, the toxic waste, the world choking on fumes; it was just a lot quieter to sit in the shade, and drink from his thermos.
He looked over and saw a man sitting by himself at another table, eating a mince pie. The red hair, the sad eyes, the flaky pastry … “Howdy,” said Truckin’ Luxon. “Hello there,” said Red Hipkins. “Nice to see you again,” said Truckin’ Luxon. “Likewise,” said Red Hipkins. They enjoyed the rest of their picnic in silence.