Page 18 - ARRS #582 - The Mystery of the Lost Wallet

Another Random Road Story #582

“It was almost forty bucks. And that place with the ditch is halfway back
to Trendy Town from your place. You know, I’m gonna have to pass that
exact spot on the way TO your house to pick you up. Sooooo, it would make
more sense, and save you $40 round trip, for me to just stop on the way and
look for it. And it would cut an hour out of the process. And don’t worry, I’m
a very honest person. Matter o’fact, I’m trying to save you money and time.”
I’d worked for other companies so long, in that moment the fact escaped
me that I could have run him back for free. I had no dispatcher on my ass.
I told him I would leave in a few minutes and I’d come over with it if I
found it. If I didn’t find it, I’d call back, and not charge him anything,
because I’m not one to kick a man when he’s down. Finally, I re-avowed my
pledge of honesty with, “I taught my kids the difference between right and
wrong, because I know the difference between right and wrong.”
Soon I was in the car, headed over to the spot where we stopped last night.
The day was overcast and I tried to remember if there had been any drizzle
since then. I found the spot without trouble. Just past the O-54 overpass the
continuation of the drainage ditch showed a trampled-down area where the
cattails were bent and broken. I pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate.
Even on a Sunday there was a fair amount of traffic passing by. Cars and
trucks zoomed past my parked cab at 70 mph, each blasting a momentary
roar of wind and road noise at the car. Each gust drowned out the tick-tock of
my four-way hazard lights. Most traffic moved over a lane as they passed,
lessening the roar significantly. Some traffic didn’t (or couldn’t) move over.
Their passing, two feet from me, violently shook the car.
“Oh no, Mister, let ME go look for your lost wallet in the weeds on the
side of the freeway, that you lost from being drunk. And I’ll do it for FREE!”
I left the window cracked enough to ensure that I couldn’t get locked out,
and watched for a break in the traffic to make my exit.
Next to the cab one spot in the grass stood out from the rest. It was
mashed, exposing dark, moist earth between the flat blades of green. The
mashed grass continued into the stand of cattails to an abrupt empty space
that stuck out like a single missing tooth among an otherwise perfect smile.
No wallet was in sight.
I stepped toward the stand of cattails, mindful of the slight angle of the
ditch and the slipperiness of the grass. I imagined there was water at the
bottom of the cattails, and wondered its depth.
“Oh, no, NO, Mister Drunk! Let ME look for your lost wallet in the mud!”
There didn’t seem to be anything in the area with the trampled down
cattails and not much, if any, standing water. I pointed my eyes at the ground
at the far end of the cattail stand and began to scan the ground, planning to
look left to right until my eyes got to the other end of the cattail stand.