I don’t think I ever fall asleep the night before a trip. I just lay there in bed, mind fixated on what will go down tomorrow. It’s dead silent in the room but I would never know it. My mind doesn’t sit still long enough to check. I’m constantly thinking about tomorrow, past trips, and future ones.
I’m not sure my eyes ever close but it’s usually dark enough in the room to fool the rest of my body into thinking I’m asleep. In reality I don’t think I’m any where near it. That little bit of “sleep” is usually enough to keep me going.
Setting an alarm is pointless but I do it anyways. I’ve never had to rely on it. I use it more as a reminder for the pretty lady sleeping next to me that I’m heading out.
I move through the house in silence…no lights. My eyes never really shut, their already accustomed to the dark. On my way out the door I grab my gear left near the front door. I crack it slowly. Slide out. Quietly shut it behind me.
It’s always dark outside when I climb into my truck in the morning. Sitting there on the driver side the radio is playing in the background as the truck warms up. I’m usually waiting for the rest of the crew to show up. Up until this point I haven’t thought about much. Too busy trying to get to this point that everything else was a blur from the moment I rolled out of bed. Now my mind is thinking again…playing out the day to come. It has form but nothing really substantial. That’s what the trip is for – to put the substantial into memory to draw from later when you need it most.
Approaching headlights mark the crew’s arrival. We don’t say much. I know what stage they’re in. I just went through it a few moments ago. Not until we’ve pulled away and firmly headed down the highway do we pick up conversation. The rutts in the road are deep…the truck is really on autopilot. I’m just giving it gas.
The cab of the truck is filled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and trips past. The conversation is more like a highlight reel…the best of trips long gone but never forgotten. Usually at some point I’m less focused on the road and more focused on what is being passed to me. A fly box filled with new shit the crew tied the days before the trip. All neatly arranged and carrying the promise of being “the fly”.
Everything outside of the truck has been whizzing by for the past couple of hours. Things change quickly once we get to a certain point. We’re not quite there yet but we’re close. Conversations stop and we’re all staring beyond the headlights. What triggers it depends on where we’re headed. It may be a bend in the road, a highway sign, the silhouette of a tree, a dirt road…something.
It’s silent. You can’t really hear anything because you’re focusing all your energy to the only sense important right now – sight. Anticipating. Then the truck stops.