Troublesome Trucks Face の小説・ストーリー

She leaned back in her seat. “No. It doesn’t. But it means something.” The truck suddenly jerked. The dashboard flashed a warning light. I frowned. “Not now.” The engine gave a low, strained whimper. Then another,Maya raised a brow. “Your beloved Royce is complaining.” “She’s not complaining,” I said defensively. “She’s… expressing concern.” The truck sputtered again, then lost power. I guided it to a stop beside the narrowing trail. For a moment, there was only silence.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there was an accident on that bend. You can see for yourself." As if he didn't believe his driver's words, Richard turned towards the back of his car. He could see several vehicles forced to stop causing traffic jams, while a truck stopped in the middle of the road. He saw two men with solid build lifting several wooden crates, which seemed to be the contents of the truck's cargo. "You reckless people," he grumbled. "Don't they have brains? Work is supposed to use the brain! Try if they use their brains just a little; nothing like that will happen. Huh!"

“Who was having a death wish? The container on the truck can easily crush a car.” “Look in front of you, that car is a total goner.” “Too bad. That car should have been worth a lot with the modifications but it’s a pile of scraps now.” “Too bad indeed. That car is not cheap. I wonder how the driver is.” “Our trucks weighed several tons. No car could withstand the sheer weight of our trucks.” As the truck driver smoked, he called for help. The side of the road was safe, whereas the center of the freeway was dangerous.

The truck rattled violently as Pascal swerved around a pothole that looked big enough to swallow a small child. Everyone jerked forward, grabbing onto anything within reach to steady themselves. Mara shrieked, Elena cursed under her breath, Damon braced himself, and Jason held to the seat as if the truck might try to bite him. The four rogues didn't even move, and Pascal looked annoyingly thrilled with himself, not even hearing Damon’s question. Mara had to chip in loudly…as usual.

"It runs under the old rail line to the upper reservoir. It's too tight for the bikes." "We can't carry Dominic through a pipe," I said. "We don't have a choice," she said. The truck gave one final, violent shudder and died completely. The brakes locked automatically, the tires smoking as the heavy carrier skidded to a halt sideways across the two-lane highway, completely blocking the road. The whine of the motorcycles was loud now, right around the last bend. "Out!" I yelled.

"Okay, okay. Maia, make sure you scream nice and loud so I can enjoy the show too," Raul said. They said long-haul truckers were a crude bunch. I was seeing it firsthand now. I couldn't believe the things coming out of their mouths. My face was burning a deep crimson. For the rest of the day, I lay on the sleeper berth in the back while the two men chatted up front. Most of their conversation consisted of raunchy jokes and dirty talk. I tried to act uninterested, but they were so loud that every word reached my ears.

he said, folding his arms across his chest as Jefferson approached, taking a look at the back of the truck. According to him, there was nothing strange, but because Homer looked very serious, Jefferson decided to remain silent. Jefferson initially thought, if maybe there was something he didn't see and it was so disturbing to Homer, that he even circled the truck several times. Jefferson who was dizzy seeing him decided to sit down, leaning on a truck with the same model, the truck was very big, even the tires were as high as his feet. Imagine how much narcotics could be circulating, damaging people out there if Homer managed to buy this car and distribute the goods out of town.

HEAVY rain fell as Trist made his way to Laguna, where his friend Chris lived. Although the surroundings were dark and the road slippery, Trist didn't seem to care. What matters to Trist is that it gets to its destination. Trist tries to call Chris on the other line, but it doesn’t answer his call. Until a car appeared on the other side of the road causing him to be dazzled by the light coming from the front of the truck, at the same time as someone appeared in front of him so he hit it.

He's giving me silence. It's always silence when they have fucked up. That is until the uneven rhythm of his breathing turns unsettling that I'm forced to speak “ Speak” [ in Italian] “It failed” I slipped a hand into my pocket whilst my thumb rubs over a patch of skin on the inside of my pinkie. “ The trucks were blown up Gambino” “ How?” I asked if he was joking or had a death wish. “ We were transporting them, the next thing the trucks blew up and the drivers are in a very bad condition.” he said