A truck driver's story: a day in the life of a driver. Stories and tales from truckers "A sailor either does or does not," he once said

https://vk.com/ivanov1963

ANDREY IVANOV (AVI)

"SIBERIAN RANGE" Story.

Dedicated to my deceased childhood friend ILYA SERGEEV.

I had a friend ten years ago. The name was Igor. Why "was", at the end of the story you yourself will understand.
We met him in the convoy of plant one. We drove together. He's there at KamAZ in the garage, and I'm in a smaller car.
Well, you know, the drivers have Friday - holy day. Relax your nerves, talk about everything. In short, one such driver's Friday and became friends.

We sat with the men after work, drank, grunted sausage with a green onion. As usual, no one listens to anyone, everyone is about his own, painful strives to insert. Shouting to each other, the usual Friday gatherings.
The people are solid, they understand that Friday is not eternal, followed by a hangover Saturday, and on Sunday you need to lie down dry. Therefore, everyone strives to completely break away on Friday after a week of work.

I also tried to screw something of my own into the general conversation, but there were drivers who were more loud and more experienced than me. I see it is useless, and I just sit and roll.
I look, I'm not the only one. There is also a short-spoken man. It turns out that he spoke little, not because he had nothing to say. He just stuttered heavily from a shell shock. But he drank and ate no less.

In the Army, he got into a hot spot and rescued a platoon of his soldiers from under fire, because he served as an ensign. There he had a concussion with a complication in speech. Then he was discharged from the army due to his incompetence and Igor went on to drive.

I quickly got tired of the drunken bazaars of my colleagues, I suggest Igor, they say, let's continue away from the crowd. And we were sitting in someone's personal garage, not far from the plant. And I wanted to go to nature, just out of need ...

We said goodbye to the team until Monday, took a little at a local store, and a snack, and what to drink it with. We went to the woods near the railway.
We sat down on a snag, and there Igorokha told me his story. About that hot spot, about stuttering, about our cherished dream, and in general we sat like that normally. I don’t remember how we got home.

In short, on Monday the doctor will go to the garage - and we are in perfect order. And no pressure and no smell.
Igor had a dream - to become a truck driver. In the country, as always, unemployment, cooperators, LLCs, CJSCs, factories either do not pay or go bankrupt, and all that kind of crap. You can only be a trucker by acquaintance, not otherwise ...

Soon Igor left the factory garage, where some salary delays began. Well, I dumped somewhere else from there. But they did not stop making friends. On Fridays we met on neutral territory, sat for a beer and did not disdain too much. He's unmarried, and that's what I am. The third guy almost immediately nailed to us. Also a chauffeur. Laughing, cheerful. But the eyes are sad. All thin, frail. Then I found out that he also served in the landing, like Igor.

In the summer we went out into the countryside to see Igor at his dacha. We were carrying bags of food and fuel. Igor is such a "bull" in appearance. The neck is short, waddling. He is very fond of eating. But I and Romka ate little. And they got drunk faster ...

The dacha is unfinished, but with a roof. There is a Russian stove, three beds, damp but clean linen in the closet, an old "MOSCOW" refrigerator, a round table. The air is piney, refreshing, but in winter you can't get there. The entire road is covered with snow from the train station itself. But in the summer we often gathered there, three inseparable companions-drivers and froze for a while.
Especially during the long holidays it was good there. Although the bathhouse there collapsed and it is far to go to the water pump for water. But this is tolerable, in general, trifles. The main thing is peace and quiet. In the evenings, they sang songs with a guitar, ate boiled potatoes with sprat in tomato sauce. Such a Russian paradise. True, without women. Decent madams are in short supply.
We used to go out on the porch in the evening - beauty ... You can even wear shorts ... If there are no neighbors ...

But that dream did not pass for Igor. I found some businessman with an old "wagon", like a twenty-ton KrAZ car with a booth. And he began to sort it out, to repair it for himself. And the merchant for this promised to send him on a long-range trip to Yakutia with the goods. And on the winter road and on the summer road.

Once Igor calls and says:
- Listen, I'll go to Mirny (Yakutia) in a week. There is no partner. How are you?
- Well, how? - I answer. - If you call, I'm with you.

By the way, I will add that at that time I was not living alone but with a lady. She may have loved me, I don't know. But economic, responsive, she liked me very much.
In short, we have lived for two years already.
Thinking how to tell her something?
- This flight is not for one day. I'll have to quit my job. And it is unlikely that this news will be greeted with joy.
And I so wanted to see the long-range, the romance of the chauffeur's, Siberia, the taiga and new people. And I never drove that far in a truck. Igor promised half-and-half earnings.

In the evening, a lady came from work, I tell her directly, as it is ...
- Igor is going to carry the cargo to Yakutia, he calls me a partner. It's hard for him alone, six thousand kilometers and without protection. I'll make some money at the same time.

In short, the common-law wife is against, like:
- You go so far, there is no experience, there are robberies and cold on the roads. You will disappear there with this Igor. Always pulling you not towards the house. This is not even a job, but a stupid undertaking and empty.

But what can you do? I wanted to go on a flight and I can't refuse a friend. A week later I packed up and drove off.

I must say right away that KrAZ is a mining dump truck. Not at all adapted for long-haul flights. A refrigerator booth was simply welded to it. And stuffed with food to the eyeballs. The car is powerful, but not fast. The noise in the cab is worse than in the tractor. There is nowhere to sleep. Igor is on the seats, I'm on the floor. From the noise, my head is not my own. And we crawl with an overload. But we have no right not to deliver.
In the rain, and in the mud, on clay and sand, on rubble. We creak from region to region, but not whine.
Think -
- When Igor will let me steer. After all, for the second day we spar almost without stopping. We brew a little tea, we squelch tea in liters, we save money. The tape recorder is broken. There is no radio in the wilderness. Only the roar of the engine.
- Igor, you're tired, let me steer. - I suggest.
- Not. It's too dangerous here, You have no such experience. The overload is large. The roads are crooked, slippery, we can easily roll over. You will go back.

And the truth is, I look, on the sides of the road the "wagon" is lying upside down, then the side truck has been knocked down ... Okay, let's go, I'm silent ...

We got to the ferry in Ust-Kut, to sail along the Lena for several days. The rain is pouring down. But the cockpit is nice, warm and quiet. Drops on the roof knock knock. The wind near the river pier carries debris. Various muck flies. Torn, wet cellophane bags, empty cigarette packs, scraps of newspapers, toilet paper, cans of beer cans play football with themselves. Beauty and surrealism in the spirit of the Strugatskys.
We stand, waiting for the weather and the queue for the ferry. We are good. Then we will be taken along the river.
We stocked up with vodka, we walk and sleep ... Now we can. Relaxation...
Finally we got on the ferry. Fun, there are a lot of cars. The drivers are all different, from all over the country ... Music is screaming from the cars, someone is watching a movie from the video. And the beauties of the Siberian river are indescribable when they sailed ... I listened to the tales of experienced truckers there ... At least write a novel ...

We rafted down the Lena, probably for five days. These places are beautiful in calm and thunderstorms.

I cannot describe nature. It is necessary to see it. Now sheer cliffs, now hills, now dangerous, stormy rifts, now secret, hidden shoals. The cubs on the shore played once, I saw it myself.
... By the way, in those places a wonderful Soviet film "UGRYUM-RIVER" was filmed, Sinilga was there - even on the shore there is a monument to her. In general, the places are strange, reserved, uncrowded, wild.

The ferry is also interesting.
There are many Yakuts, both scientists and quite dense people. The drivers all got to know each other, became friends. One my friend walks like a gloomy cloud. Is silent or snarls ...

I always go to the shore when we dock in local villages, I watch people, animals, houses, households. So everything is unusual, peculiar. For example, I have never seen in our villages so many purebred huskies, large, fluffy, probably sled.
I also noticed that all the villagers were preparing for the approach of the ferry as if it were a holiday. It is important that the local nationalities wore beads, and the men were wearing shiny boots ...
Igor mostly did not go to the piers. Usually slept in the cockpit.
True, then I was sheltered for the time of the rafting alone kind driver, he was driving alone and he had two sleeping bags in SUPERMAZ.

Another attraction. There is an island in the middle of the Lena River. A small island, with sandy shoals, quiet backwaters, without rocks, overgrown with sparse vegetation, with the exception of a few tall ship pines.
So that's it. The locals told that on that small island an old forest man had made a nest for himself. Grandfather Fyodor, I think. And, if the weather is good, that ancient hermit can go to the coast of the island and wave to passing ships or ferries.

Experienced truckers also said that in the spring there was a terrible incident on the ferry. With a drink or lack of sleep, the driver got behind the wheel of a heavy loaded "truck". He started the car and drove to the railing. He jumped over the fence rail and dumped into Lena. And so he went to the bottom. Then, of course, they dragged the drowned man out to send home and bury him. Lena doesn't like jokes.

Here's a little help from Wikipedia:
"Le; na (Yakut.; L ;; ne, bur. Z; lkhe) - a river in Russia. Lena is the largest Siberian river. By world standards, it is the tenth longest river in the world. River length, from source to mouth, 4 400 km It flows into the Laptev Sea of ​​the Arctic Ocean.
Lena is the largest of the Russian rivers, whose basin lies entirely within Russia. It is also the largest river in the world, completely flowing in the permafrost region. "

As a result, we moored to the destination berth. I don't remember the name. Either Yakutsk, or Lensk, or some other pier there. We got off the ferry. And then the fun began ...

The entire route from the pier to Mirny is broken up by heavy trucks, fuel tankers, "wagons" and tractors. Roll over "nefig" to do. And we have an overload of several tons of fucking sausage and the rest of the perishable junk.
Several times I had to get out of the KrAZ cab and watch Igor cautiously "crawl" along the slope in his car. Track every meter of movement.

Then we were even afraid to speak. Only by gestures they made each other understand where to turn or stop altogether.

As a result, we delivered those cheeses and sausages to the land of diamond miners, the city of Mirny. Unloaded in warehouses. Sleep off the kid. And we must go back to our homelands, look for the load. And what from there, from Yakutia to lead that? Not fox furs with red caviar and not diamond ore in the grocery booth. Somehow they found some scrap metal, six tons. If only empty such a tractor is not driven back.

My friend Igorokha received all the money in both directions from a businessman who flew in by plane. And gives me:
“Andryukha, you didn’t drive, you didn’t drive, and I’ll drive her back empty and I’ll quickly drive her back myself.” He doesn’t hint, but directly says that we will not divide the money for the flight. Like I just traveled with pleasure on KrAZ.
Then it immediately became clear to me why he was so gloomy and gloomy on the ferry. Reluctance to share, why does he need an extra passenger now.

I didn’t answer. I just took my thermos with tea and went to the fellow traveler who sheltered me on the rafting .. He is from Abakan, as much as he can. And from Krasnoyarsk I will somehow get there by hitchhiking. There are still many good people in Russia, especially among ordinary hard workers.

But I would not be able to ride next to a redneck for a week.

So our friendship with Igohokha ended. I never met him again. And I don’t want to ...
Yes, let him meet smaller ones on his roads than he himself. Good luck to him and an easy Path!

I didn't earn money, but I've seen so much living beauty, different people, nature. And few, probably, who personally stood on the edge of the huge diamond kimberlite pipe "MIR". This is where the breath of fear and delight captures. And I stood there !!!

AVI 2016 https://vk.com/ivanov1963

There is a certain category of people for whom the road is the main meaning of their life. Danil Zazybin's father was a truck driver. From childhood, the boy dreamed of being like him, and also traveling along the roads of Russia and the whole world. He was fascinated by the clear dividing lines, the shiny asphalt, the succession of cities and villages flashing behind the glass of the car. Danil's dream came true, and in 1999 he became an international transport driver.

Danil Zazybin has an irregular working day: it can start at either 5 or 2 pm. The start of the shift depends on how late the previous flight ended. It often happens that you have to work at night and rest during the day.

The truck cab is equipped with a tachograph - a special device with the help of which the transport inspection monitors the observance of the working regime and the rest of the drivers. Truckers have the right to work no more than 9 hours a day. After that, they should definitely rest.

According to Danil, European inspectors are very strict in enforcing labor standards. If violations are identified, they can be fined several thousand euros. There is still no such strict control on the territory of Russia. The system began to develop only this year, but not all cars are equipped with the necessary equipment yet.

Danil drives a white German-made DAF truck tractor. The weight of the machine is over 17 tons, and its length is 17 meters. Despite the huge dimensions of the truck, the driver says that it is quite easy to operate. You just need to get used to it.

Danil Zazybin does not have time for long conversations. The trucker needs to hit the road, because tonight he plans to cross Belarus. In the daytime, when the air warms up by more than 25 degrees, the movement of heavy vehicles is prohibited on the roads of this country. Moreover, few people will enjoy a long parking lot on the hot asphalt.

Truckers from Russia - jack of all trades

Slowly turning the steering wheel, Danil Zazybin says that in the old days truckers often had to fix various malfunctions of their car themselves. Europeans considered Russian truck drivers to be jack of all trades. They could replace not only wheels or brake linings, but also perform major engine repairs. But today's equipment modern cars does not "dispose" to self-troubleshooting: in case of any serious breakdown, you have to contact the service.

A walkie-talkie is installed in Danil's car, from which male voices are heard. Other drivers eagerly "wash the bones" of someone's mother-in-law.

Danil explains that all trucks are equipped with radios tuned to the same wavelength. They help drivers in unforeseen situations. With the help of a walkie-talkie, truckers can discuss the traffic situation or simply talk about any topic that interests them. It is worth asking a question in the walkie-talkie, and the conversation starts by itself.

Comfort and convenience of modern heavy-duty trucks

Modern trucks differ in many ways from their predecessors. Today they, by right, can be called mobile homes. The cab is so high that it allows the driver to stand upright. Here, behind the driver's seat, there is a comfortable sleeping place with a blanket, mattress and pillow. And if you remove it, you can see the camp kitchen with refrigerator and stove.

It is worth saying that the cabin of the car, which Danil Zazybin drives, is not decorated with various small objects that are so often found in heavy-duty torpedoes. The driver believes that they interfere with the normal view, so only the icon is installed in his car.

Lunch break is approaching, which usually lasts 45 minutes. If you choose between going to a cafe and eating in the car, then most truckers will stop at the second option. Time is enough to cook something worthwhile. Some drivers have a bite to eat with sandwiches, while others prefer a full meal.
Smiling, Danil says that once he even fried pancakes for himself. And some drivers, in general, can cook jam. During long stops, truckers always prepare their own food, and they do it quite well. And if you are tired of everyday meals, then other drivers will never refuse a new, healthy recipe.

If you go to a cafe every day, then there won't be enough money for that. Truckers involved in international transport try to eat in public places no further than Poland. For example, a very modest breakfast in Germany costs at least 500 rubles. That is why it is much more profitable for drivers to cook their own meals on their own.

Trucker everyday life - parking difficulties

A white truck with Russian license plates stops to refuel. It takes a lot of time to fill a full tank, because it holds 1.5 tons. Despite the not very high quality of Russian diesel fuel, truckers try to refuel at home, because fuel prices in Russia are 2 times lower. While the tank is filling up, Danil talks about the purpose of a small platform on which several heavy trucks are standing. It turns out that the bulk of such parking is far from free, but it is unlikely that it will be possible to have a good rest on them.

According to the trucker, there are few quality parking lots in any country in the world. This forces drivers to drive into several places. Nevertheless, if you compare Russia and other states, then, for example, in Germany you can take a shower and wash soiled clothes. You will hardly find such a parking lot on Russian territory. Stopping at a chosen location, some drivers prefer to spend time alone, while others - discuss the news with colleagues in the company.

Polite Truckers

After refueling, Danil continues on his way. With favorable road conditions the truck can travel at a speed of 90 km / h. This maximum limiter installed for heavy trucks. If the trucker is not delayed by traffic jams or repairs on the roads, then he can drive almost 700 km per day.

My interlocutor notes with surprise that hitchhikers have stopped standing on the roadside lately. In previous years, neither the summer heat nor the winter cold stopped them.

Danil has no partner, but this does not mean that he is bored on the way. A man can admire the surrounding landscapes and communicate by radio with other truck drivers. Musical rhythms do not subside in the car: mostly disco 80s or Spanish music sounds from the radio. Following the truck, two "cars" are moving. Danil sees that the road ahead is empty and blinks with a turn signal, informing the drivers that the path for overtaking is clear. Truck drivers are renowned for their politeness.

As you know, truckers are mainly professional drivers. But, despite this, car accidents are not uncommon on the road. Heavy trucks are not distinguished by good maneuverability, so it is rather difficult for them to get out of a skid. If it hits a wet roadside, a 20-ton "whopper" can roll over or fly into the oncoming lane. V winter time truckers experience other difficulties: it is difficult for their cars to enter an icy hill or break out of a snow "mess". To facilitate the solution of such problems, Danil Zazybin opted for mechanical box gear.

Dedicated to Truckers: Love of the Road

What is the main quality that distinguishes truck drivers? Our interlocutor believes that this is patience. Day after day is not necessary: ​​sometimes the shift is very calm, and sometimes the driver has to spend a lot of his nerves. Probably every trucker had thoughts about quitting his job. But after sitting at home and having calmed down a little, he again begins to pull on the road. The road becomes a lifestyle. Real truckers cannot imagine their existence without movement. Love for the road, practically, develops into an addiction.

Driving life is not easy. A trucker makes about two trips per month, each of which lasts at least 12 days. Naturally, the family sees the driver for no more than a week.

Danil looks at pictures of his wife and child and says that his family is used to his lifestyle. The man says he has always been a truck driver. In order to somehow compensate for his constant absence from home, he tries to devote as much time as possible to his family. Together they take a lot of walks, his wife Danila even went on a flight with him a couple of times. She says she was satisfied.

Nuances of international long-range: border control

The working day is coming to an end. You can prepare for dinner and relaxation. Tomorrow Danil will cross the border with Germany. There are many stories about long-term truck stops at the borders. For example, an entry from Poland to Belarus can last at least a week.

Danil recalls his own negative experience when crossing the border with Finland. He got a detailed inspection of the entire cargo, which lasted more than a week. It was a 30-degree frost on the street, cars lined up in a huge queue and moved incessantly. Therefore, day after day, Danil was in constant tension and practically did not sleep.

Despite the difficulties of the profession of a truck driver, Danil considers it his "road" love. It allows you to see a lot of new things and meet interesting people. The life of a trucker goes in a circle: being on a flight, he seeks to find himself at home as soon as possible, and after waiting for a rest, he again wants to feel the "taste" of road romance.

Video: long-range range in Europe, what you need to take with you first

Fatigue and drunkenness hit my head, and I decided to "remove" the lady. (Without any intentions for "intimacy" because the week that I spent at the wheel without female company was terribly burdensome for me, so I wanted to "use my tongue").

Word by word ... My fatigue, as it never happened: compliments, jokes, anecdotes. My partner is already looking sideways: they say, it's time and honor to know, otherwise you will run into trouble. And as if looking into the water ...

A red Nine drove up to the Trucker. An overweight man, about 50 years old, fell out of it, and threateningly moved straight to our table ...

Five minutes of abusive skirmish, which later we could not help but remember without laughter, and the big man sat down next to us. The formidable stranger turned out to be the owner of the Trucker, and the girl I took for the shoulder was his ... wife ?!

Sergei, despite his formidable appearance, was a great joker and joker, hounded anecdote after anecdote. After the third bottle of beer, he suddenly darkened and fell silent. I soon heard the reason for the sudden change in mood from his own lips ...

... Seryoga, as they say, was born behind the wheel. His father also drove large trucks around the Union and he also took birth to his wife in the car. So, the boy's fate was predetermined in advance. Having unscrewed the steering wheel in the army, the guy moved to the local ATP and soon, like his father, began to travel around the country.

... He married a blonde neighbor, Alenka, who gave him twin daughters: Olyushka and Oksana. Sergey wandered about on business trips, and three loving hearts were waiting for him at home. Forever engraved in the memory of those days, moments when he was tired, returning from a flight with a bunch of "goodies" and his daughters literally showered him with thousands of kisses, and his wife modestly waited on the sidelines of her "turn" to snuggle up to her mighty chest that smelled of gasoline and fuel oil. husband.

Sergei once had a couple of free days and decided to take his people to the sea.

... The morning turned out to be great. The sun was shining brightly. Pleasant coolness smelled from the meadows. The girls, in anticipation of the trip, did not sleep at midnight, they collected all their things and tried on outfits, and if you didn’t drive them to bed, they would have put the whole house on their ears.

Despite the general high spirits, Sergei was restless in his soul: either a premonition of trouble, or the instinct of self-preservation inherent in truckers, or long-term fatigue affected. He has already checked the old Moskvich up to the bolt and changed the oil, but the alarm does not go away.

... Daughters chirp merrily. The little wife looks with admiration at how skillfully Sergei drives the car ...

… From where and how the Ural appeared on the oncoming lane until now, no one knows. What the truck driver was shouting then, why he was waving his arms - also remains a mystery ...

… The brakes screeched mercilessly. "Moskvich" spun around in place ... Blow ... Another blow ... Blow by blow ...

... The last ... The last Sergei saw the bewildered little eyes of Olyushka and Oksana ... And he also saw ... I saw the bloody face of his wife ...

... For a week the doctors fought for Sergei's life ... For seven days and nights he climbed out of the other world ... When he survived, I realized that the life he had begged God in delirium had now turned into hellish torment, which continues to this day. Until now, in nightmares, he is haunted by the frightened eyes of his daughters and a bloody wife ...

... The perpetrators of the accident were not found. And with whom to look for something ?! The driver of the "Ural" died in the hospital, and the doctors gave Sergei one chance in a hundred ...

After recovering in his hometown, Sergei was gone. From young to old, he was accused of the death of the family: some in the back, some in the eyes. The only comfort was the road. Strange as it may seem, the track, which took away the most dear people from Sergei, now gave a new breath of life, protected him from all troubles and misfortunes, became a guardian angel, but could not return to him that which fate had unfairly taken away: his wife and daughters ...

On this, let me leave Sergei in the care of fate and tell about Irina (Irina is the name of the girl that I took for "shoulder", although as it turned out later I was not far from the truth) because in this story she has a special place.

Irina is a Muscovite, the only daughter in the family of either associate professors or professors of some sciences, I certainly don’t remember. From an early age, the girl did not know anything about it: a late child, her parents pampered her as much as her wallet allowed, and it seemed bottomless.

Irina attended prestigious schools in Moscow, rested in the most expensive resorts in the country. In a word, she bathed like cheese in butter in the glory and power of her parents. And it seemed that this state of affairs suited her ...

... Who knows when and what a turning point came in the girl's soul: perhaps when her father “shoved” her into his institute and tried with all his might to make a scientist out of her, or when her mother “fiddled” her with boring bespectacled associate professors to “seek the right to own the daughter's heart ", or when she realized her worthlessness without parental care ... Who knows ...

The eternal conflict of "fathers and children" and everyone solves it in their own way, proving their parents' independence and independence. But Irina chose a different path ...

Having quarreled with her father and contemptuously throwing in his face those "pitiful pennies" that he allocated for pocket expenses, the girl left home.

... Life is a difficult thing and honest, noble and selfless people do not always come across on the way ...

Irina, who never thought about the true price of money and the way of earning it, and was not going to ruin her life in pursuit of small "pieces of paper" ... But for a long time and everyone knows: you always have to pay for everything. Flying into the abyss of sin is a moment, and it takes weeks, months, years, and sometimes a whole life to take off ...

... At first, Irina served the clients of elite metropolitan saunas and baths, fortunately "education" allowed. Then she went down to taverns and restaurants and, in the end, having turned into an ordinary street "whore", did not find herself on the track ...

... On a cold autumn day, Sergey drove his KAMAZ to Moscow ... A girl was voting on the road: mascara spread over her face, a light coat fluttering in the wind.

As a rule, Sergei did not take fellow travelers, and he, in general, did not consider the "shoulder" ones as people ... But her eyes ... For a moment, her eyes seemed familiar to him, painfully close and dear. Sergei, unable to cope with the surging memories, stopped ...

... They drove for six months together ... Then Sergei sold KAMAZ and, having bought an abandoned roadside eatery, offered Irina his hand and heart ...

For two years now they have been officially husband and wife, and despite the double age difference, they are full of vitality and energy: to rebuild a two-storey hotel for visitors from the Trucker:

With a pool and fish, - adds Irina.

And then you can think about your little son ... - Sergei sly looks sideways towards his wife ...

She smiles conspiratorially in response ...

On this positive note, let me put an end to it too ...

Trucker

Oh, and great is Mother Russia! Her vast expanses are immense, and everywhere people live, work and rest, in whose nature there is one ineradicable property - to move. And a person moves: in winter and summer, in rain and in a bucket, night and day - always! And what only he does not use for this: his own legs, dog and reindeer teams, a cart and a bicycle; they move through the air, on water, along steel tracks and, of course, along roads. There are different roads: unpaved, and laid with slabs, cobblestones and asphalt, wide and narrow ... We will not discuss the quality of Russian roads, there is hardly anyone who can describe them better than Gogol. Even the almighty State Statistics Committee does not know exactly the length of all

our roads, nor their condition.

However, our story is not about roads at all, but about those who measure kilometers with the diameter of their wheels. Everyone goes: motorcycles and cars, dump trucks and buses, firefighters and traffic cops, and even truckers on their trucks. About one such "trucker" (namely in quotes) and our further narration will go.

The good-natured guys from the traffic police post, which was located next to the canteen on the Moscow-Leningrad highway (then still), called him "trucker". Kolya worked as a horse-drawn carriage driver, delivering everything he needed to the canteen: food, water, firewood, traveled to the villages for the preparation of meat, vegetables and other food. Although, perhaps, I went - this is a loud phrase: the horse was riding, knowing all the routes, and Kolya at that time conscientiously snored (first "taking it on his chest") at the bottom of the cart, hiding himself worn to holes a canvas raincoat.

To call Kolya an inveterate drunk would be a great injustice: after all, he knew his job, he did it, even though reluctantly, but conscientiously. The horse was always groomed, cleaned and fed. But Kolya's main pride (and for others - the object of harmless ridicule) was the vehicle itself: a completely non-creaky rubber-tread cart, equipped according to all the rules. Apparently, from a young age, our hero's cherished dream was a "steering wheel" some "Colchis" and endless kilometers of roads. However, the villainous fate decided in its own way, leaving Kolya not a single chance to become a driver, and therefore he completely gave all his love for technology to the cart: he equipped it with a tire run, hung it up in size according to all the rules reflectors, equipped (most likely "rested" in the state farm garage) with an emergency stop sign, a jack and a balloon wrench. A masterpiece of a folk craftsman was a state number (picked up somewhere on the highway), solemnly

hoisted in the most honorable place and painstakingly duplicated with white paint on the back of the cart.

And if something happened on the road, - Kolya lamented, not paying attention to the ironic jokes of the jokers, - should I spend the night under the sky? And the girls will not wait, they will close the canteen and cry my "business trip".

Kolka had a business trip daily 50 grams, or a mug of beer for a "pre-trip medical examination", with which the compassionate Stolovskaya girls brought the poor fellow into working order.

The hardest days for Kolya were considered Tuesday and Friday, because these days they brought fresh draft beer to the canteen's buffet, and in the morning the head "does not want to be friends with Tal" and you need to go on a long journey to the base (as much as two kilometers from the canteen! ). And as soon as you did not have to dodge in order not to miss the opening of the first barrel ...

On one of these days, Lyuska (wow, a bitchy woman!), As always, early in the morning loaded the wretch with a mass of errands. Kolyan, drooping his shoulders, drooped to "start" his technique. But after all, Russia was always famous for its folk ingenuity, which more than made up for the shortcomings in education ...

Sergeich, - the "trucker" dug up to the traffic cop who just took over, -

After all, a drunken man cannot drive?

Exactly, you can’t, ”he waved away from Kolka, as if from an annoying fly, knowing in advance that it would not be so easy to do this.

And what could it be?

You can definitely lose your rights.

Sergeich, let me breathe you in a tube, you will take away my license and I will not go anywhere.

What, the beer has to drive up?

Yeah, fear bursts like a "bowler hat", and Lyuska again sends to the office.

By you what, and right got started?

Offended, admire it!

And with these words, he took out the oilcloth crusts of the driver's license from the pocket of his horse-smelling jacket. Sergeich widened his eyes in amazement, but a second later burst in with a loud, cheerful laugh, as if he was not on duty, but somewhere in the Variety Theater at a concert by A. Raikin. And there was a reason to have fun! on the spread of a cardboard box cut to size, it was written in semi-printed, semi-capital letters (which is surprising - no mistakes!) that such-and-such is a first-class driver, has the right to drive on all roads of the Soviet Union at any time of the day and years, without limiting tonnage, and all services that have at least some relation to the roads should provide him with every assistance. The crown of creation was a three-by-four photograph with an ink finger attached to the corner (instead of printing).

Laughing enough, Sergeich offered Kolyan a compromise option:

Come on, Kolyok, I won't take your rights away, you drive them to the office, and upon my return I will personally buy you two mugs of fresh "Zhigulevsky" as a gift from all the employees of GAI. We respect "professionals"!

At that, they "shook hands" and, pleased with his resourcefulness, Kolyan settled down more comfortably at the bottom of the cart, and the horse slowly dragged the "wagon" along the already familiar road.

The good eighties! You always remember them with a slight sadness: there is still no lawlessness on the roads, cars of all calibers do not rush along the track day and night, and the track itself was then only "two-lane". The cars were not so high-speed, the drivers were competent and right they did not buy their own, and therefore the traffic cops did not have much work.

On one of these quiet weekday days, when there were not so many cars on the road (the drivers indulged in an afternoon siesta), Sergeich - the already known traffic cop, who was already known to us - was hurrying around his "ward" section of the highway. His thoughts were far from idle: here -that's the wife has to give birth, and the mother-in-law (a good woman in general) still won't buy the promised stroller; the bosses, sitting in their leather chairs, and "must not blow" in order to replace the patrol car already eaten up by rust with something "more - less. "And even my partner had a toothache in the morning, sits at the post, and you ride in splendid isolation ...

Suddenly, he got up all over, throwing all unofficial thoughts away: a small blockage of four or five cars formed in front of him.

No accident, "Sergeich imagined, adding gas," again to run with a tape measure, do some scribbling. Yes, and in general today something "does not roll."

But his worries were not justified: there was no accident, and the cars were just waiting for their turn to bypass the unforeseen obstacle. Seeing the cause of the traffic jam, Sergeich completely bowed his head: on the roadway, without even deigning to pull over to the side of the road, there was Colina's "wagon" .One wheel of the cart was lowered, and stones were slipped under the rest, playing the role of anti-recoil devices. Behind the cart, at a distance of about five steps, an emergency sign was displayed, and the "hero of the occasion" himself peacefully snoozed at the bottom of the cart, having had time to taste the living water from the morning. degrees higher than the body temperature of a healthy person.

Kolyan, what are you doing here? ”

Driving on a flat tire is prohibited, he retorted.

You have a jack, a spare wheel, tools. Change the wheel at the pace, interfere with the movement.

The driver's business is to drive the vehicle. Here the technical assistance will come and fix it, concluded Kolka, once again plunging into nirvana.

"The tobacco business," the elder came to the conclusion, "will have to rake it myself. All the more so if we consider that technical assistance is one of the state farm tractor drivers, Kolyan's faithful drinking companions."

With the help of one of the drivers, he quickly changed the wheel on the cart and, with a light slap of his palm on the rump, gave acceleration to the "tractor." parking place, and Starley Sergeich drove on along his section of the track, spitefully thinking about the new troubles destined for him by fate in the person of "trucker" Kolyan.

The eighties have sunk into the summer, the dashing nineties swept by, when the Union "ordered to live a long time", and all citizens suddenly became millionaires, a unit was added to the Roman numerals denoting the ordinal number of the century. Life does not stand still: the M-10 highway has expanded, spread in breadth humming with an endless stream of cars. Now, unless the suicide dares to drive through it in a horse-drawn carriage.

And how much he called Ritule - the dispatcher, how much he persuaded, what he did not promise! It was not in vain that he sang like a rooster. Here's your flight and cargo. And Vanya Lyzhin will go even to the ends of the world - just "money", pay.

Vanya is driving, smiling, listening to music, and there is nothing better for him than a road, a car, and most importantly - freedom.

Yes, that's it. Whoever needs it, but he needs freedom like a breath of air, like a drop of water in the desert. Well, he cannot sit in one place, even cut it into pieces, even nail it down with nails. Beg - do not beg, it will leave anyway. And how many women asked him to stay, quit traveling work, settle

at one place. After all, not at all young ...

Women in the life of Vanya Lyzhin occupied the third place, in his mind, the first is, of course, the steering wheel.

The second is alcohol. Well, that means women are the third.

And it's not that Vanya was indifferent to the female sex, but rather the opposite. But somehow he was not lucky with them.

And he parted with women calmly, without hysterics, jealousy and all kinds of melodramas. I just walked away.

He took his simple belongings - and they all fit in a gym bag - and he was like that. Russia is big, there are lonely women in every village, the village is dark and dark. All hardworking, healthy, hospitable. And Vanya did not look at them with an empty pocket. And they all wanted a trucker to

tie yourself, to the house, garden, cattle - animal.

The village butterflies did not understand that you could not keep the falcon within four walls. It will fly up, slip out and ... remember what your name was.

So Vanya fluttered from one house to another, changing his girlfriends and the address of residence.

Once it only hooked him to the living, to the very thing. Vanya does not want to remember this, but it will take and emerge; as luck would have it, it stands before my eyes, does not go away.

And it was so. A small, big-eyed woman with two children appeared in their village. As soon as Vanya saw those eyes, he fell head over heels in love. And she responded to his feeling. From the flight he flew to her on wings, knew what was in store for her, loved her. Spared nothing for her and the guys. He fulfilled all requests, pampered with imported clothes, perfumes. He knew that he loved flowers - at any time of the year he brought them in armfuls, if only she would laugh with her affectionate laugh, stroked her face. Until now, her hand is in front of her eyes.

The second place in the life of Vanya Lyzhin was occupied by alcohol. What guy in Siberia doesn't drink? God Himself ordered to relax at home after a difficult voyage. And in this the beloved woman agreed with him, she would only laugh gently at him when she went over a little.

Vanya would hold on to such a woman with his hands and feet; yes no, the devil confused with moonshine. Took too much. I went to a local cafe, which fellow villagers called "a burp" for "tasty and healthy" food. Met an ex-girlfriend. We drank. The beloved went somewhere in the background, and the soul rushed anywhere.

A friend then told me that when her beloved went to fetch Vanya in a cafe and saw him kissing his girlfriend - she turned pale all over, without saying a word, she left.

She also left Vanya Lyzhin's life. Forever. I have not forgiven.

That's how it happens in life.

Eh, roads, dust and fog ...

Vanya goes, listens to music, smiles, And he has no dearer steering wheel, road and freedom. Be happy, trucker!

This cafe, located at a fork in the road ten kilometers from the city, has always been a favorite resting place for truck drivers. Here you could have a tasty meal and relax before continuing on your way. There were always several cars parked in the large area behind the cafe. Some left, others came - the eternal cycle of life. Today, four brilliant handsome men, covered with brand new heating elements, stood on the site, and the drivers themselves sat at a table in a small cafe hall and talked after a hearty meal. Paths-roads brought them together more than once, so the conversation was heart-to-heart, like old friends, despite the different age and place of residence.

Sergei Grigorievich, you are silent today, you have not eaten almost anything. Did something happen to you? - asked the young curly-haired driver, referring to the gray-haired neighbor.

You know, guys, I've been driving for more than twenty years, but yesterday some kind of devilry happened to me, which I don’t know, ”the interlocutor answered in a hoarse voice.

Yesterday morning I was driving along the highway, the weather is good, the beauty is around. I looked - a woman was standing, raising her hand, voting. She is middle-aged, wearing a blue kerchief on her head, and a large bag in her hands. Where, I think, such, it seems that there are no settlements nearby. My principle is not to take passengers, but then I felt sorry for her, a woman after all. I slowed down, stopped. I opened the door and wait for him to sit down. He waited a little - no one, looked out - no one. I got out of the cab, walked around from behind - there was no woman. Sweat broke through me, bent down, looked under the wheels - there is no woman, no bag, no one! I climbed into the cockpit, drove on, but my soul was restless, the world around was darkened. So I drove ten kilometers more, I look and can't believe my eyes - the same woman in a blue headscarf is standing in front, again waving her hand. It was then that fear got me through. I didn’t stop, so I drowned it in… There will be an appetite after such devilry!

Those sitting at the table were silent, thinking about their own.

In our work, Grigorievich, everything happens, maybe you are tired, or maybe there is a warning, there are a lot of such stories, not everyone tells, ”one of the drivers broke the silence. - I myself did not have to see, but I heard from my father, do you want me to tell you?

First story.

There is a mountain pass between the city of Almaty and Zharkent - Altynemel. Continuous ascents and descents, the road is difficult and dangerous. There is one descent there, leaving sharply to the left. Cars crashed there! So, at night, if you go down, you can see the light below, as if someone lit a fire. Neither rain nor fog cares for him - a fire is visible. Many stopped, looked, but did not find anything. The old people said that a truck crashed here many years ago. The driver remained alive, he burned a fire all night long so as not to freeze, the nights are cold in the mountains. Since then, people have started to fire and see it as a warning. This fire saved many lives. And since then the descent has been called the Driver's fire.

Those sitting at the table perked up, each remembered something, once heard from someone, and then put aside in a distant corner of memory.

I have heard from acquaintances that there are all sorts of warnings, - said Vasily Yakovlevich, a middle-aged man in a shabby leather jacket. - We have a driver working in the base, so after one incident he began to go to church.

The second story.

A truck loaded with fruit was driving from Uzbekistan. Behind the wheel - an experienced chauffeur, who has been turning the steering wheel for many years, not a single accident behind his shoulders. The track is new, smooth as a mirror. Neither ahead nor behind - no one. The driver found his favorite wave, turned on the music, the road is all the more fun. And at one moment, as he was shocked, he looked in the mirror, and there - an animal's muzzle grins, his eyes are filled with blood, but so close! The seventh feeling seemed to whisper: "Cross yourself!" He and let's read Our Father and be baptized. He stopped, took a breath, and again looked in the mirror with apprehension - the road was winding like a ribbon, everything around was calm. I drove on slowly, turned off the music. And fifteen kilometers further along the highway, just at the intersection of roads, there was a big accident - a car with gas exploded. Piles of scorched charred metal were scattered along the road, people died. He would have gone faster - he would have got into the thick of it, and so - God took him away.

And you, why are you silent, Mikhail, ”one of the sitting people turned to the young curly-haired boy.

Yes, I listen to you and think, maybe it was true then everything was, but we did not believe. I forgot about that story long ago, but now it is spinning on my tongue, bursting with memories and emotions.

And you tell us, you see, it will become easier.

Third story.

I didn’t work anywhere four years ago, but I often went with my brother, the same driver. He's on the flight, and I'm with him. Pashka was also with us on that flight, my friend asked for it. We drove out even after dark, chatted all the way, and as the sun rose, worn out Pashka and me, it began to drift to sleep. I hear, my brother Valerka, pushing me in the side: "Look, what a beauty!" I raise my head and see - a girl is standing on the side of the road, waving her arms. She is as thin as a reed, tall, and a long sundress. Valerka stopped and said: "Come on, Pashka, move, we'll give a lift to the girl."

Pashka opens the door, gives her his hand, and then suddenly pushed her away with force, slammed the door and as he yelled: "Valerka, swamp!"

My brother on the gas, and go! We ran like that for about twenty minutes. Valerka then stopped the car and asked: "What happened, Pasha?" And there is no face on that.

“I give the girl my hand, she lifts the sundress to put her foot on the step, and her leg is huge, shaggy, and instead of a shoe - a horse's hoof.”

At first we wanted to laugh at him, we thought, he seemed awake. Only we see that he is not laughing: he looks frightened, himself whiter than snow, shrinks all over.

Never mind. We came back, I got a job, my brother soon got married, and after that I rarely saw Pashka. I know that he began to drink a lot, because of drunkenness and got into a bad story.

“Here are the passions! Goosebumps already! " - everyone cried out.

See how scared he was! The human soul is darkness. Someone, maybe, would soon forget, but your friend's life turned out like this, ”Sergei Grigorievich perked up. - I also heard one story as a child, as if any machine has a soul.

The fourth story.

It was exactly after the war. Uncle Vanya worked on the same collective farm - everyone called him that. In years already, the whole war he went on his lorry, carried flour on a frozen lake to Leningrad, he was not afraid of ice holes or shells. He was joking that the car itself was taking him out of trouble. And after the war, he began to carry grain from the fields. Surprisingly, I heard that his car had never been under repair for a long time. How many military roads have passed, how much grain has been taken from the fields, but has not lost her strength. Uncle Vanya talked to her, it happened, as with a person. He will open the hood, he will use the key himself and say sweet words to her. And it works, because the machine! And in the spring, Uncle Vanya died - his heart seized, and old wounds have recently made themselves felt. They handed the car over to a young boy. I don’t know what his name was. So, he was returning one evening from the elevator. And take the car and stall right next to the village cemetery. What only the boy did not do, does not start, infection! While fiddling, it got dark, and then: "Brother, can you find a smoke?" Looks, an elderly man stands, in military boots, a gray jacket, stands and smiles. Well, the guy, of course, took out the makhorka, twisted it, talked, and then the elderly man said: “You, brother, do not rush, talk to her, she, as a person, hears everything, understands everything.” And he himself strokes the car on the hood and whispers: "Well, dear, the man is tired, and you are fiddling about ..." The boy got behind the wheel and started up! He looked around, there was no one, as if there had never been. He almost forgot about that incident, if he had not come across an old photograph on which the collective farm leaders were. In one of the men he recognized the one he had met in the evening near the cemetery. Well, of course, he began to ask what and how. It was then that he was told that it was Uncle Vanya, only he died in the spring. This guy is a fine fellow, he did not talk a lot, he realized himself that his car had stopped for nothing near the cemetery, apparently, he wanted to pay tribute to his former owner. See how it happens in life! So much for your soul, a piece of iron, but there is a soul for it too.

The drivers sat for a little longer, kept silent, thinking about the difficulties and joys of their work, then went out into the street, smoked and dispersed, each in his own direction, after all, things are not done by themselves. Fate brought them together in the same cafe only three months later. All gathered, except for the elderly driver - Sergei Grigorievich. We told each other the news, about the family, about work, and other carriers joined them. A cheerful company gathered, noisy.

We heard that Sergei Grigorievich died - a heart attack, - said one of the drivers. - It's a pity, he was a good man!

It was then that I remembered their conversation about the unusual and mystical that happens on the roads. They also remembered what happened to Sergei Grigorievich. Maybe it's a sign, maybe Bone herself came, or maybe a person's life path ended, as it should be according to God's laws.

Everyone fell silent, took off their hats as a sign of grief and respect for their comrade. Everyone has their own way of life, their kilometers away along the highway. Let these kilometers be light and even. Happy journey to you guys!