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smaller wire that hooked up to the ignition system. Using the screwdriver, I crossed those two wires, hoping they would spark and fire up the engine. I tried, but no luck. Nothing. Disappointed, I finished chewing, then swallowed the chunk of candy in my mouth and tried again. This time, it worked like a champ and that old Kenworth
roared
to life. Made my heart jump it was so loud!
    Still hunched over, I backed out with the screwdriver in my hand and climbed up into the driver’s seat in the cab. The truck’s engine was vibrating like crazy and blowing black smoke into the air through the silver smokestacks on either side of the cab. The truck was making a beep noise, too, because the air pressure was low and you needed to build up some pressure in order to release the brakes. The brakes all run by air on those big rigs.
    Nervous, I tossed the screwdriver onto the console and sat in the seat, trying to calm my nerves by getting comfortable. I moved the seat up a little, adjusted the mirrors, and kept checking, too, to see if that trucker was coming back. When the beeping stopped, I pushed in the two circular disks on the front dash that released—to a huge burst of sound— the two parking brakes, one for the trailer and one for the tractor. I bit my lip so hard it bled a little—I could taste it—then carefully pushed down the clutch with my left foot and threw the stick shift into reverse. With my hands clenched on the steering wheel, I glanced in the rearview mirror to be sure I had room—those trucks take a lot of room when they turn—but everything looked clear, with plenty of space. So I pressed my right foot down on the accelerator and backed that big baby out of the narrow parking place like a damned pro.
    Even though it was a ten-speed truck—not a fifteen or an eighteen like the newer ones—I knew I’d go through several gears pretty fast. First gear, then second, third, fourth, and fifth. The truck was rumbling something fierce, still blowing smoke and groaning with each gear change, but that’s what they did, those trucks. They made a ton of noise, but you got used to it pretty quick.
    I wasn’t but a couple hundred yards down the exit ramp when I needed to throw the splitter so I could get the truck into sixth gear. I simply reached down to a button on the gearshift and with two fingers pulled it up. Instantly, the gears shifted and I was in sixth with no problem. By the time I pulled out onto the highway, I was launched into seventh gear with a great big smile on my face.

CHAPTER FIVE
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    MILE MARKER 72
    O ut on the highway, I got that truck rolling. In hardly no time I was in ninth gear and cruising along at fifty-five miles an hour. Seemed a little fast, though, so I eased up and downshifted once, but mostly for practice. Boy, I was really in trouble now, I thought. Breaking out of prison and then stealing a truck. I smiled when I thought about it, yeah, but it wasn’t ’cause I was evil or anything. I hadn’t
hurt
anyone so I figured I might as well enjoy the ride.
    On the console, I noticed two things I’d passed over earlier: a pack of gum and a red Southern States cap. I didn’t want anyone to look in my window and realize it was a kid driving, so I slapped the cap on my head right away. Then I took a piece of gum, unwrapped it with one hand, and pushed it into my mouth.
    Weren’t too many cars on the road so I took my time and kept glancing at the dashboard to familiarize myself with it again. It was a dizzying array of dials and gauges. Some I could remember what they were, like the air pressure gauges. They were important ’cause, like I said, those brakes run on air and you needed to know what kind of pressure you had. I also knew about the rpm, the revolutions per minute, that the motor was making. The faster you went, the higher the rpm. You had to keep an eye on that ’cause you could burn things up if the rpm got