More of the same.

"Use that jake brake!"

For two days after I told Mickey to shut the fuck up and go back to sleep, things were fairly good. When I was driving and he was in the sleeper berth, anytime I slowed down or changed lanes he would poke his head out to see what was going on. Unable to correct anything or even comment, his head would immediately disappear again. Those were two very good days. Those days are over now.

"It's on."
"Doesn't feel like it."

As much as I hate to say that phrase of his 'makes my blood boil'... It does. It actually does. It takes every bit of my self-control not to engage both emergency brakes and send his angry ass flying out of his bunk and into the truck cab with me. And as the truck sat precariously on the summit of an incredibly steep decline and he tried to recover his composure - possibly remove the gear shift from his broken rib cage - I'd casually point to the lit indicator light.

"How's it feel now? Does it feel like the damn jake brake is on now? It's feels to me like all the brakes are on."

I'd never actually do it, but I've thought about it. I've thought about it alot. As I mentioned in a previous post, driving for extended periods of time affords me with alot of time to think about things. Most of the time, I think about seriously hurting Mickey. It's practically all I think about for hundreds and hundreds of miles.

He left me at a truck stop in southern California. "Accidentally". Rule #2 of Mickey's truck is: "When you're in the sleeper berth, make sure you leave your shoes in front of the passenger seat. That way no one gets left behind because we'll know the other is on board."

I was wearing my shoes while in the truck stop, so I'm not entirely sure where the confusion was. These aren't my rules. They're his. No shoes = no passenger. Definitely not a terribly complicated concept and definitely not restoring my confidence in the man.

If he keeps his act up, I might "accidentally" return the favor.