"Hi Mom,"

  Whoosh, whoosh, spitting out the spray of salt and sand and ice pellets.  "Is this a bad time?" 

  "No, not really." Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.  "Aunt whooshchuggrindfoof-foof-foof wants to know where you are.  Always welcome in Arizona is the message." Truck gear parts splayed out on the road.  "Okay, I'll explain it.  Right now I'm shackled in a plywood box on a mountain pass in Utah." 

  "I'm sure those around you appreciate your dramatic flair." 

  "Remember my friends in NC who were gearing up to do the trucking show?" 

  "Well, I met a lot of people honey," 

  "Anyway, one of them is going to do a new show!" 

  "Pass those up there!" The Senior Correspondent on scene pointed to some antennae and up at the plywood box attached to a highway sign over the road.  "Well, I gotta go Mom.  There's food supply finally sprung from port strike and a bit of a convoy coming after they clear this direction of illegal drugs!" 

  "Never a dull moment.  I bubble you.  Lots of Rosary prayers." 

  "Love you." Phone given down and into waterproof bag.