In the room was this slim good-looking dark-haired guy, about twenty-five. It wouldn't worry me a bit," he told me. Margaret thought it was darling, and Frank thought that the three bedrooms and two baths would give them room to grow. The idea of the cruisy truckstop is a thing of the past. We're not changing anyone's route, which they do so well. It had been on the market for over a year, now, and nobody had bought it, so maybe the price wouldn't be that bad. Long hours at the wheel of my eighteen-wheel refrigerated trailer-truck, delivering meat from the heartland to the East Coast. As a trucker, I was never in the closet. We called the real estate agent who drove right over and showed them the inside of the house, which they also liked. I guess I've been driving that route for over fifteen years now. I left the curtains open, because after all, Frank had said he wanted to see me enjoying myself. Ethel and me, we got two kids, Floyd and Fergus who are in seventh and eighth grades, and are a couple of little snot-noses, so I don't really mind being away from them so much. Old Wes Stober drove the other truck. But all those long lonely nights on the road, when I could have been home with my wife, Ethel, not that she was that exciting, but it was better than sleeping alone in the cab of my truck and looking at magazines. I taught him how to play cribbage and everything, and he was beating me right away.