“Leaving Kingman, Arizona,” the soldier said. ‘Some guy was whining, where’s the commercial? Ain’t they got any commercial around here?”

“Commercial” means “commercial company” which is what trucking whores call themselves.

“Some other guy said, I’ve been driving for 20 years and never seen any commercial around here,” he said.

“Are you saying there are openings for whores in Kingman?”

“Yeah. There are no whores here at all. Some other guy said, where are they supposed to come from? You know, like the first guy is stupid for even asking. There is no whores here. If you want commercial company, don’t stop in Kingman.”

“I see.”

“You can go to Barstow, CA for some weird shit though,” he said because he knows I like to get the whore report.

“What do they have there?”

“Oh I saw this couple… they were living there in a winnedbago or something and he was going to polish your wheels… the wheels of your truck while she cleaned the inside of your truck with a bikini.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, and they called themselves, Father Time and Mother Earth. Can you believe that?”

“So what? You mean this guy goes around your truck polishing the wheels while the girl cleans the truck in a bathing suit and then what does the trucker do? Sit in their and beat off?”

“Who knows. I have no idea, don’t want an idea but Father Time and Mother Earth? I just couldn’t believe they were calling themselves that. They were hippies, I guess. Couple of fruit loops.”