A freezing rain pelted down from the cold winter night. I knew it meant trouble for me, but I didn't know what else it might bring.
I was on my way through Ohio pulling a flatbed load of steel. Everything had been going along well until the rain started and the temperature had begun to plummet. I was west of I-77 and south of Akron, easing through Amish country. The terrain was hilly, and the two lane road was curvy, making for an interesting ride on a nice day. One this black rainy night, it was a bit of a challenge.
"Oh, damn," I muttered to myself as I saw the sheen of ice starting to form on my mirrors. This was my first winter of driving a tractor trailer and I was learning fast how to drive in bad weather. This was my first encounter with freezing rain though, and I was not a happy camper.
An old hand had told me that when your mirrors start to freeze up the road won't be far behind. He'd been around for a bunch of years, so I knew the road was going to turn nasty pretty soon.
As if on cue the drive tires started to spin going up a steep little hill. The way to handle that is to back off the throttle until the spinning stops, then feed it fuel until the wheels break traction again. Usually when doing this you are progressively losing momentum so it becomes a question of whether you lose all your forward motion or run out of hill to climb. If you don't run out of hill, you're screwed, dead in the water, stuck until a wrecker (called a Draggin' Wagon) can get you pulled out if you're in the ditch. If you're still lucky enough to be on the roadway, you have to wait until the temperature rises and the ice melts enough for you to get traction so you can proceed.
I lucked out and ran out of hill before I lost all my mojo. I was still congratulating myself a minute later when I heard an exclamation on the CB radio. "Damn it, Dave, I just lost it going up the hill!" I knew there were a couple ODOT salt spreaders (called salt shakers by truckers) coming along behind me. I'd been listening to them for the last fifteen minutes or so. The lead salt shaker had broken traction on the same hill I'd just made it up. There was hardly any traffic, so I was pretty sure I was the last one who would top that hill going west tonight.
So, here I was easing along on what had become a skating rink, a two lane country highway coated with the dreaded black ice. Black ice is still ice, the bad thing about it is you can run into it and not be aware it's there until you get on the brakes, then things can get real squirrelly real fast. Compacted snow still has a little texture but black ice is as smooth as the top of an ice cube, as well as being invisible.
I started to look for a pull off, someplace I could shut down and wait until conditions became better. No luck though, all that was available was the ditch along the roadway, which I was avoiding like the plague.
I'd made it about five more miles, struggling up a few more hills, losing speed and praying to make it to the top, easing down the backside and still on the lookout for a wide spot to park. Apparently parking spots are like cops; you can never find one when you need one.
I made it up another hill and was going down the other side when I noticed I couldn't see my trailer marker lights in my mirror on the drivers side. I rolled down my window quickly and caught a better view, one that knotted my guts up into a ball. My trailer was coming around, headed for the ditch to the left. It had broken traction on the ice even though my tractor hadn't. A wreck was coming in at most a few seconds and I was the star attraction!
"What the hell do I do NOW?" I knew I had to get the trailer straightened out behind my tractor. All this flashed through my mind in a heartbeat. I reached up and came down on the trailer trolley brake, a lever which engages the trailer brake only. At the same time I gave my tractor a little fuel, making it go just a thread faster than my trailer, pulling everything back into a straight line.
"Whew, it worked! It fucking worked!" I yelled to myself, amazed at my successful manuever. I was just in time for the next crisis, it turned out. Here I was straightened out but going too damned fast down an ice coated hill and I could just barely see a curve up ahead. I knew I was going too fast to make it.
"What ya gonna do now, Sherlock?" I put my passenger side steer tire off onto the foot wide shoulder, knowing there'd be a little gravel on it, praying it'd give enough traction to let me keep control of my rig. This last couple minutes had me down to my last nerve and that one was smokin' pretty damned bad.
When you find yourself in these situations all you can do is go for it, hope it turns out alright, then sit back and watch the show. I did get a little more traction riding the shoulder and was able to bleed off a little speed. As I came into the curve and turned my steering wheel into it, that old Mack cabover held on like a hungry barnyard cat holds onto a fat rat.
"We made it!" I crowed to myself, even thought you couldn't have driven a needle in my ass with a ball peen hammer! "That's two for two, old son. Wanna go for the bonus round?" The answer was "Fuck no!" I went back to looking for a pull off again.
I spotted a farm house ahead on the right, and there was a wide drive just past it. I decided I'd be better off trying to explain to farmer Yoder why I was parked in his driveway than I'd be if I wrecked my rig. I slowed down and dove into it. It turned out to be a wide open area between the house and a barn. It was hard packed, well graveled, good solid terrain, so I wouldn't be stuck when it was time to go.
My plan was to sit there and let my truck run so I'd still have some heat while I slept until the sun came up. Than I could weigh my options and decide what to do. I just hoped the farmer didn't decide to tote his shotgun out and ventilate me for the intrusion.
The Amish don't have modern conveniences, things like electric lights or running water. The house was totally dark, and I knew everyone inside had been long in bed. I hoped I didn't awaken anyone when I pulled the parking brake buttons on my dashboard, creating a loud chuff of air as they actuated.
I sat for a few minutes regrouping my shot nerves and thinking things over. I was really pleased that I had been quick minded enough to come up with answers that worked, that got me through the black ice episode. It could have turned out to be a disaster. My nerves were settling and I was thinking I was home free when a tiny light came on inside the house in an upper window. I knew someone had just lit a match. Sure enough, a brighter light flared as that someone touched the match to a lantern.
I waited and in a few minutes here came a light bobbing along toward my rig. I was getting my excuses lined up as the light bearer came to the drivers side door.
It was a woman, dressed in a heavy outer coat over an ankle length dress. She wore a heavy dark scarf to cover her hair. Rubber boots showed under the hem of the dress. I rolled down my window and did my best to offer a smile. She looked up and said "I can see you've gotten yourself into a bit of a tight spot, young'un. No need to stay out here in the cold and freeze. Bring yourself into the house and I'll give you a cup of coffee. It's leftover, mind you, but it's still warm, and I expect it'll go down good on such a night as this."
I grabbed my coat and bailed out the drivers door. "Are you sure, ma'am? I wouldn't want to put you out or anything. I'm really sorry for waking you up and all, I just had to get off the road. I almost wrecked getting down that last hill."
"I know, it's a might slickery out here, sure it is. I don't blame you a'tall. I'm just doing what a neighbor would do, trying to help as best I can."
She led the way toward the house, that dim lantern casting a golden ring of light about her feet as she shuffled along. The rain had turned to sleet and the pellets of ice bounced off the brim of my cap. Particles of ice stuck to her scarf, glowing like tiny diamonds in the night as they reflected the lantern light.
We entered the house into a small mud room. A heavy mat was on the floor. One wall was arrayed with coat hooks, several of which were occupied with heavy winter coats, a couple insulated bib overalls, a few long scarves. Under them shoes were lined up, mostly boots of one sort or another, but a few pairs of house shoes as well. "If you'd be so kind, wipe your feet. I don't fancy havin' to mop up at this late hour."
She led me into the kitchen which was huge. It had a big six eyed wood cookstove which was barely hot, having been shut down for the night a while earlier. A large kitchen table with eight chairs sat in the center of the room, bearing witness that this was a large family. A large double metal sink sat under the window, a long drain board on the left side of it. These were Amish folks and their dishwasher had a name, Ann or Betty or...dishes were done by hand from water heated on the cookstove, then rinsed in cold water in the second sink which had been filled by buckets carried from the hand pump located on a side porch.
Various cabinets held dishes and cookware. A large kitchen cabinet was along another wall. I remembered my mother had one when I was a kid. It had a large bin in the top left side which held a twenty pound bag of flour. On the front of the bin was a crank handle which sifted the flour through a screen and out the conical bottom. An enameled counter top slid out, giving a work area for the making of fresh hot biscuits, which were usually baked for both breakfast and supper. It had another cabinet on the top right for sugar, salt, and other spices. It featured a couple smaller pull out drawers under the work surface for tableware, kitchen utensils, the odds and ends every cook has. Under that was a storage area large enough to fit buckets, tubs, and larger bowls.
"Sit yourself down whilst I get a cup. Do you want any sugar or milk for your coffee? I have a few biscuits left too, but they're cold. I have strawberry preserves to go with them, if you'd like."
I accepted the sugar so she got a spoon for stirring. "Sugar bowl's on the table, help yourself." She set the coffee before me and tiny whisps of steam arose. I put a spoon of sugar to it and stirred, then sipped. Her coffee had backbone alright, and probably could have walked on its own.
She sat across from me and folded her hands on the table in front of her. They were thin hands, work roughened and red. This woman worked, was no hothouse rose. Her face was thin, her cheeks flat plains beneath the most amazing blue eyes, deep and calm like a picture of a mountain lake late in the day as dusk neared. Graying whisps of hair escaped her scarf.
"Ma'am, I appreciate your kindness, and I'm so sorry to have disturbed you."
"It's no bother and true be told I'm glad to see a fresh face. My husband and sons are away at market and they'll be a while getting home due to this weather. After you've had your coffee I'll show you off to bed. You can stay the night and tomorrow things may turn for the better. We're supposed to lend help to the stranger and the foreigner. You aren't no foreigner, but a stranger you be."
Thanking her again I sipped coffee with cold biscuits painted with some of the best strawberry preserves ever eaten by man. When done she set my cup and plate on the side board to await the next dishwashing. She took up her lantern and told me to follow. We went through the living room which had a large wood stove which was putting out some deliciously enjoyable heat. We paused while she fed it a couple small logs, then we went up the wooden stairs to the upper level where the bedrooms were. I'd gotten a sense of how large this home was. It must have had ten or twelve rooms. She took me to the second door on the left and led me inside. "This is one of my son's room. He won't mind that you use it." She lit a candle from the lantern and set it on a night stand.
"You can leave it burn for light if you wish."
I thanked her again and she retreated out the door, closing it behind her. I heard her boots thumping down the hallway, a door creak as it opened and closed. Silence settled in, the only sound the faint rattle of the sleet hitting the window. I skinned my clothes off and turned back the thick layer of bedclothes, clean white sheets top and bottom overlaid with thick hand made quilts. I knew these quilts were worth quite a bit due to their beautiful artistry as well as their utility. I was full of good coffee, biscuits and preserves, and getting into a bed fit for a king! It doesn't get a lot better than that, I mistakenly thought.
It must have been an hour later when I was jolted awake by the sound of my door opening. My candle was still burning but didn't do much to brighten the room. I saw a figure standing inside the door, and could barely discern that it was a female form. She was dressed in a floor length nightgown, free flowing around her, hiding her shape to me. On her head was a nightcap, the long straps tied beneath her chin.
She approached my bedside quietly, making no sound at all. As she got nearer the light I could see she was young, a late teen to early twenty something.
"What are you doing?" I'm pretty quick when it comes to asking obvious questions. My Momma didn't raise but three idiots and I'm not one of them.
"I'm cold. Would you mind if I got into your bed? This room is above the living room and it's a lot warmer than mine."
As an answer I flipped the corner of the covers down, giving her room to slip beneath the sheets with me. She was right, her feet were like ice cubes and her hands weren't a lot better.
"I'm Rebekah." She introduced herself in a whisper. "I saw Momma bring you inside. I'm glad she did, it's a terrible night out there."
"Yes it is, Rebekah. I'm Sam, and I'm glad to make your acquaintance." We were facing one another, huddled under the covers, and she giggled softly. I was a little shocked when she snuggled close and gave me a kiss.
She was a farm girl, built a little more for plowing than for the race course. Her waist was thick, but she wasn't fat. My hand rested there as she snuggled me for heat. Being a guy, that didn't last for long. My hands went off exploring. I've been told I have Russian hands and Roman fingers. Her fanny was large, round, and very firm. My free hand caressed it, enjoying the feel under her soft cotton gown.
She continued to kiss me, my face, my neck, my lips. She was a hungry lass and was getting into what we were doing. I kissed her sweet young mouth and tried to entice her teeth apart so our tongues could tango. She didn't open and I was surprised, then it hit me that she'd never been French kissed before!
I whispered to her 'Open your mouth, let our tongues play together." She did and very quickly found she loved this new thing she'd discovered. Soon she was sucking my tongue into her mouth, our tongues dancing in an erotic frenzy.
Her hands became a bit more adventuresome. Her fingers traced my chest, carressed it, played with my nipples.
