An old trucker

A few minutes after I first stuck my thumb out, semi hissed to a stop. I climbed up into the cab and pay my money bag at my feet. A tall but pudgy man with a bushy white beard smiled back at me. He was a pleasant almost grandfatherly-looking man. A good wedding ring sparkled on his left hand.

"Name's Jerry," he said.

"Cheryl," I said quickly.

"How far you going?"

"About an hour straight down the road," I said.

"I'm going right by there," he said as he dropped the truck in gear. "So...what's a pretty little lady like you doing all the way out here in the middle of no where?"

"Car trouble."

"It's not safe to hook rides these days," he said. "There's a lot of crazies around. Lucky for you I'm not one of them."

"That's good."

"There is only one thing," Jerry said. "You know the rule of the road, right?"

"I'm not sure I do," I said.

"Oh, come on, you've heard it," he said, smiling.

Jerry reached over and flipped down the sun visor in front of me. Tapped to the backside was an old and well worn bumper sticker that read: "Ass, Gas or Grass: nobody rides for free."

"Are you serious?"

"I didn't make the rules, darlin'," he said. "To be honest, I will take cash, but I don't really need the gas money since this is a company truck. Either of the other two would be great."