“Three trucks? And we aren’t providing the trailers? Roundman, this is different,” I reply. This is not our usual protocol.

“Delatorre scheduled this run. I know we usually do smaller, but we’ve got over ten years transporting with him; he’ll have the trailers done right.”

“We’ll have no choice but to pass through at least two weigh stations crossing the state lines. Pass the message, the trailers need to make weight precisely, leave no room for error. I’ll start to map the routes and send those stopping points to you. With that mileage, we’ll need to double up drivers because of the hours behind the wheel. I’m gonna need Tank up here to fill one of the spots driving a Mack. I’ll assign five ride along cars; one for each truck, one to scout ahead for road checks, and one to follow behind for any tails or trouble,” I answer as I start planning out my job.

This is what I do, I maintain a trucking company. Rex and I own Crews Transports together. We do the usual scout for jobs online, bid on the runs, and travel with anything from transport, passenger vans, all the way up to full on eighteen-wheeler tractor-trailer loads. The company is completely legit, other than the nine-one-oh runs we take for the Hellions. The numbers nine-one-oh, the area code for the Haywood’s Hellions, is the way we mark our transports for the club versus our regular business.

Typically, when old man Delatorre needs a transport, it’s one trailer or two box trucks. He packs the trailers or box trucks. We either pick up the box truck as it is, or we pull up our Mack truck to his trailer, lock it in, and roll. What’s in the trailers is not my concern, the weight of the contents is. Delatorre is good business, he’s honorable and wouldn’t do anything to put any of us at risk. Knowing this is his run, I’m confident that everything will go smoothly. Delatorre isn’t a man you say no to anyways, so we are taking the job regardless. It’s just nice to not have to look over your shoulder like you would with a new client.

“Alright, Tripp. Get the shit ready. Tank will be there in three days and the shipment is to be picked up in five.”

“Got it, Roundman, over and out.”

Looks like the transport number has just moved to sixteen now instead of thirteen. Business is good. Life is good.

4

One Regret

Strolling over to the garage to pick up Sass from our work day, I can hear her shouting outside the building.

“What is it, Tank? Are you afraid of commitment? Or afraid of rejection? You may be one badass biker, but the way I see it, when it comes to relationships, you’re full of fear. What are you sooo afraid of?”