The Good Driver: A Novel

By Gary A James

A simple malfunction in his truck has Max going back to his garage and mechanics… an action that’ll alter the course of his life forever.
Max Doren thought that being loyal and hardworking would be enough at his job, driving for Buffalo Bill Transport. The trucking company owner, Smith, doesn’t seem to appreciate Max’s diligence and dedication.
Worse yet, Rick Barnes, the operations manager, seems determined to sabotage Max’s career and reputation.
With a friend named Axel Thomas in his corner, Max can only hope that justice will come knocking for the people trying to ruin his life for reasons unknown. Yet Rick’s schemes continue to escalate until the very trucking company is in jeopardy and the friends learn there is more to the story than they originally thought.
And when Max’s truck is involved in a mysterious theft, Max wonders just how far someone might go to wreck his world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9781663227447

Gary A James

Gary believes in the impact that storytelling can have on the world as it does on his life. The world, as he saw from the college campus to his work with youth, and even to the workforce, has been filled with story. Not only did storytelling help him understand principles, but also the people around him. This is what motivated him to write novels and novellas on his free time. Gary loves travel, and enjoys the works of other authors of fiction. Right now, he calls Brampton, Ontario his home.

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THE GOOD DRIVER

A NOVEL

Copyright © 2024 Gary A James.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2743-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2744-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023923953

iUniverse rev. date:  04/08/2024

Contents

Acknowledgement

Part One

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Part Two

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Part Three

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Epilogue

For the memory of my late cousin, Joel Omar Clarke.

Acknowledgement

I want to thank the individuals who had played an important role by critiquing and helping me refine my work.

Sarah Mae W., Chloe Elsom, and Raazia Messani. I also want to thank Samantha Anderson, Dani M., and Olivia.

And finally, I want to thank the author and finisher of my faith, Jesus, whose storytelling has been the inspiration behind mine.

Part One

1

CHAPTER

I t was Tuesday, and Thanksgiving and Black Friday were behind, ushering in a colder month. Max decided that he would not dwell on the cold. Thoughts of frigid temperatures could be torture on their own. So, he turned the fan on and placed his hands over the vents. Air flowed and circulated into his cab, and with it came the warmth. He relaxed as the mild heat coursed through his veins. Yet, that was not the case a day ear lier.

On Monday, Max had a short trip going south to West Virginia. The temperature outside the truck was cold. Inside the cab, it was bitter, chilling even his bones. He had turned the knob on the dashboard to discover no airflow. He tapped the vents again and was frustrated by this ordeal. And when the fan wasn’t working, it was clear that no heat would come out. He thought that by driving, the fan would eventually click back to life.

So, Max did what he would later regret. He drove from Buffalo to an area north of Pittsburgh and prayed that West Virginia would not be as cold. But that wasn’t the case, for the word got out that there was ten feet of snow in that state. He desperately hoped the sun’s UV rays would penetrate the glass and his body, producing heat.

He did not check the forecast, for Pennsylvania was chilly enough. His toes were numb, and his knees almost buckled. His face and nose felt the nip until he finally decided to stop. Max was glad he had left his pet mastiff with his sister. Soon, Audrey would return to work, and Jeremy would be with his owner.

Max called his manager and even messaged him for the third time. The dispatchers had gone home. Rick was on call tonight, overseeing eighty other drivers shuttling through the city or running across the states and provinces.

Rick had a long list of other drivers to stay connected with. Max had experienced delays while trying to communicate—but never this bad.

Max called, emailed, and even texted but did not receive a response from Rick. Maybe there was an emergency. The problem right now was that Max was also dealing with an emergency. And the cold was unbearable, and there was no telling if he would survive it. The next ramp was less than two miles ahead. When he got there, he exited, parked the unit against a curb outside a local mechanic’s shop, and began his trudge toward the front entrance.

The central heating met him at the threshold, causing the frost to dissipate from his face in an instant. A few steps across the waiting room was the front desk. The smell of fresh motor oil wafted over him.

A man who appeared to be either of South Asian or Middle Eastern descent looked up from his seated position. He was gazing at the contents of a desktop monitor when Max approached.

Yes, this man in dark coveralls said, his face displaying a wearisomeness, probably over the timing of this visit.

Max peered at the name tag on the man’s chest, which read ‘Muhammed.’

Hi, sir. I have a problem.

Muhammed’s face lit up for a moment. If you have a problem, we’ll fix it.

What Muhammed said sounded like an overused and dated slogan, which they could alter a little.

Then, as an afterthought, he said, At certain hours.

Well, Max began, I must begin by saying that my problem is the fan. There’s no air coming out of the vents. You’re an auto mechanic, but I’m driving a big truck. Because I’m here, I’m just rolling the dice.

Muhammed’s eyes began to arch with interest. And you are coming from where and going to where?

I have a load of printers inside a fifty-three-foot-van coming from Buffalo, New York, and going to Lewisburg in West Virginia.

And you have no diesel mechanic to fix this problem in Buffalo?

We do. The fan was working fine until I left home.

Max knew he was only telling a half-truth. He hadn’t even checked if the fan was working until after he had left his company’s premises. When he left for West Virginia, he was confident it would work. So, whether it had stopped working on the way or from the night before, Max couldn’t tell. He knew it wouldn’t blow air when he tried switching it on.

After a pause, Muhammed finally replied. I see. You have a long way to go, my friend, for someone with no heat.

I understand, said Max. That’s why I’m here. I’m hoping you could give me advice if you can’t fix my problem.

It could be a blown fuse for the radiator. Did you check the fuse panel?

I did. They all seemed fine. Maybe I missed something.

Muhammed stared at him for a moment. I’ll do this for you. I will follow you to your truck. My guys are busy. Is your truck parked in the front?

Yes, said Max.

Max knew that Muhammed would never have followed him several blocks to the semi. It would have been too cold for the long walk.

Muhammed motioned with his hand. Then lead on.

He followed Max to his rig. By now, the north wind blew, pushing them in a southerly direction. Max and Muhammed braced their coats as they fought against the intense wind.

They went around a large snowbank until they stood by Max’s truck and trailer. On the sides of both units was the company logo, Buffalo Bill Transport, a distinct silver ribbon over royal blue buffalo in a grazing posture. The company truck Max drove was black, so the logo stood out.

I hope you can quickly diagnose the issue before returning to your shop.

Inside the cab, Muhammed crouched to study the guide panel. Using the fuse tester, he poked around the board until he stopped.

I found it, he said. The broken fuse.

It did not take Muhammed long to find the match to replace the fuse. And it didn’t take long for that fuse to break.

It is under the hood or dashboard: a broken relay or disconnected wire. You’ll have to turn and go home or have your people tow it to a garage where your big truck can fit. To do this kind of work, I don’t have what it takes to handle this job in this cold.

Muhammed said this with his hands outstretched while motioning to the winterly weather around them.

This wasn’t reassuring to Max. He would not be driving to West Virginia with this mechanical issue. Driving the truck home was out of the question in this climate. He needed someone to rescue him, but how? Rick would have called the towing service. But Max could not reach him.

I have to get the truck towed. Is there a way I can hang out here until the tow guy gets here?

You may. But there is a problem. We close in forty-five minutes.

Then I’ll call for my people right now. I hope they send someone, and I hope they’ll do it soon.

The issue that left Max’s 2014 Freightliner Coronado sleeper feeling like an icebox was repaired. On Tuesday, the mechanical problem was behind, and Max finally had heat entering his cab. Rick never returned Max’s call, and there were no replies to the texts or emails. He had left Max Doren in the cold.

Max replayed his experience. Muhammed, the mechanic, called a tow driver. This one charged high in mileage and extra for using his transponder. This tow driver arrived one hour after Muhammed had locked up for the day. There was no way of getting through to Rick, and I had to pay out of my pocket.

That’s messed up, said Axel, his disgust clearly on display.

Axel Thomas, a diesel mechanic, saw Max pull out of his shop. Knowing his house was on the way, Axel boldly asked for a lift to go home. As a thin, clean-shaven African American man, Axel had a wily appearance. Max wondered, even to that day, why some called him ATM.

Yeah, Max replied in agreement. Never got Rick. I froze my butt off, sitting on the driver’s seat, then rolling around inside the bunk. I thanked myself for carrying extra pairs of socks and a thick blanket, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough.

And not an ounce of compassion from this Muhammed fella?

I understand him, though. The mechanic had to go home. He got a wife and kids. I got no quarrel.

Without warning, Axel slammed his fist against the glove box, causing Max to flinch.

The person you should have a quarrel against is Rick. He left you hanging. What explanation did that buzzard come up with?

He had an emergency, he told me. Rick told me it was personal and couldn’t go into details.

He couldn’t go into details, Axel said mockingly. Seriously. He had a man dying in the frigid weather, and he did not give you an emergency number. What about the money that came out of your pocket? Are they going to reimburse you for that?

So he said. The owner later told me that I should have contacted him. He would have arranged for someone else to get me. Because I contacted a tow man they didn’t have an account with, this will delay my reimburse—

Nonsense! barked Axel. They should pay you as soon as you get back. It’s not a matter of their problems. They owe you. It’s the principle.

Axel rambled on as Max’s phone sounded. He hit the Bluetooth that was in his ear.

Hello?

Hi, is this Max Doren?

Yes.

This is Calvin Smith.

Max knew who Calvin Smith was. Smith was the owner of Buffalo Bill Transport, otherwise known as BBT. Being on the road as frequently as he was, Max had little interaction with Calvin Smith. It explained why Calvin identified himself by his full name. Rick and the dispatchers were Max’s direct contacts. So, this made Max Doren wonder why he wasn’t hearing from his people at BBT.

You need to get over here and pronto, Smith said demandingly.

The owner’s tone raised concern in Max’s mind: What could be so urgent?

I’ll be there, he answered. What’s the problem?

There was a theft in the mechanic’s yard last night. Thousands of dollars’ worth of printers were stolen from the trailer you were pulling. The police are at the scene and have copies of the videos showing the thieves.

Max froze at this report. Stolen? How?

How did this happen?

We’ll talk about this. Also, I spoke to Rick, and he’s connecting you to these thieves.

2

CHAPTER

M ax’s jaw slacked as he attempted to process what he was hearing. Stolen? All? Me, connected to these thi eves?

Yes, Max. And all printers are gone. They broke the seal and took everything—printers, cartridges, and all. After your tow driver left, you parked the trailer and left it inside the mechanic’s gate.

Max’s mind spun as he struggled to recall the night of his return to the city. That’s when it came back to him. The gate to their fleet’s compound was locked when he and the tow driver arrived. The gate was temporarily closed. And Max had no way of knowing where the guard was. The tow driver was about to leave, and Max was without answers. The personal numbers for the other dispatchers, Mary, Lauren, and Jen, were not given to the drivers. Max called Mia Palmer, who was Rick Barnes’s assistant. Mia told Max to park the units inside the mechanic’s gate and to back the trailer against a fence.

Max remembered leaving the trailer connected to his truck. He recalled backing against a fence before dropping the key inside the mechanic’s slot.

Are you listening to me? shouted Smith.

Sure. I had no way of reaching Mary, Lauren, or Jen. I got a hold of Mia, who told me to park inside the mechanic’s gate.

Mia Palmer? Why would you park and not lock the gladhand or kingpin?

I had neither. I couldn’t get a hold of Rick. It was an emergency because it was freezing outside.

I was available.

I’m telling you. I didn’t know if I had a number for you.

That load should have gone to West Virginia. What was it doing back in Upstate New York? What you did was irresponsible.

Max felt rattled and stood in a state of shock. It was as though the bosses were backing him into a corner. Irresponsible? And for what? Just for following Mia’s instructions.

What I did was follow the only instructions I heard. I didn’t know what else to do. I kept the truck connected and backed it against the fence.

But somehow, the thieves got to the products. I don’t know how they swung that door open unless they got to the keys. Talk to me when you get here.

The call ended.

Max turned his attention to his passenger, who was listening to the entire conversation. Axel appeared to understand that Max was taking the fall for the theft.

Your boss might as well accuse us mechanics of thievery. The unit was in our lot.

Max understood this, but only he was getting the blame. He was doing his job; he did not deserve this treatment he was getting.

He shouldn’t accuse anyone without the facts, Max answered.

You backed the trailer against the fence before pulling the keys. The hardware thieves could never have gotten to the boxes of printers on crates unless they had a spare key to pull the trailer away from the fence. They could never have pulled your key out of our slot, but . . .

But what?

They could have used some device with a powerful magnet to retrieve your keys.

That’s possible. But how could the thieves have known about the freight?

Axel shrugged. I don’t know, man. I’m just brainstorming. You got a problem, and that’s the people you work with. The man, Rick, has to literally tell himself that you’re incompetent.

It’s odd how Mr. Smith said Rick connected these thieves to me.

It doesn’t surprise me, though it surprises you. It can’t be odd, knowing the kind of management you have to work with. To ignore you the way your boss did, then blame you, he must have it in for you.

Don’t know, Max answered.

And a fifty-three-foot trailer full of printers? How did they manage to clean the entire trailer without getting caught? Where could they fit them in one trip? Their cars? Now, that would be a lot of cars to fill.

Max craned his head as he looked out the window. Your place is near—

Woah, hold on . . . Axel waved his hand at Max. Not so fast. I’m not getting off here.

But this is your home.

But I’m not going home. I see you’re in trouble. So, you need an advocate as you stand before old Smith. And you can’t go into the lion’s den alone. Rick would probably be there to help Smith eat you alive. And I never liked that so-called manager, to begin with.

Max smiled with gratitude. Thanks, Axel. But don’t you have something more important to do?

Nothing is more important than my friend. So, here’s what we’ll do: We’re going to march into that office, and we’re going to fix this problem, so help me—sorry. I almost did it. But understand this, bro. Unless someone is suffering a serious case of brain freeze, that person is out to shortchange you.

I think there’s a misunderstanding that I need to clarify. I remember parking the units on Monday evening. By that time, you and your coworkers had gone home. I know there has to be a surveillance camera hidden somewhere. It would have caught the thieves.

Axel grunted a laugh. Caught the thieves is one thing. Capturing the thieves is another. There’s a camera on our property. And I’m sure it caught their activity. But were their faces captured on camera? I don’t think so. We know that thieves would know better than that. Another question plaguing me is how on earth they managed to access a key. Our key slot allows you to drop the key into a long funnel where the key falls through a flap. No magnet is going to suck the key back up and through that flap which would then be closed.

Max shook his head. Then it would have to be another key. But how?

I don’t know. Our people and your people will need to investigate. Blaming the driver will not solve a thing.

Max parked his unit outside the truck gate, where the guard sat while on watch. He and Axel walked towards the building entrance. As he entered, most of the staff had left for the day. He heard the familiar voices of Calvin Smith and Rick Barnes inside an office. Axel followed Max.

They entered that office. Calvin Smith was seated at his desk when he shifted his gaze from Rick to Max.

Smith was an oval-shaped bald man whose cranium reflected the fluorescents overhead. Whatever hairline he had left lingered over his ear and barely over the back of his pudgy neck.

Rick had a full head of dark brown with gray at the sideburns. Unlike the boss, he had the athletic build of a runner. Rick stood over Smith’s desk, as would a dark counselor.

Mr. Doren! Smith boomed. We need to talk about what happened. But I wasn’t expecting more company . . .

His eyes shifted towards Axel, who stood shoulder to shoulder with Max.

Sir, I need him to stand as a witness.

Rick jumped in. You don’t need to be here.

I need to be here because the theft happened in our yard, said Axel.

Rick’s brows furrowed. Did your boss agree to have you speak on their behalf?

No.

Then you don’t need to be here.

Max disagreed with Rick, for this happened on the mechanic’s property. So, Axel should be present on behalf of the shop. Otherwise, it would have been two bosses against one lowly driver.

Rick is right, Smith said, joining in. We will be speaking to your boss tomorrow. So, you can go.

Axel protested. Listen, you are blaming Max for something he had no control over.

Rick returned to the discussion. And you’re the one to determine what Max had control over?

Axel faced Rick. He did what your colleague told him to—

My colleague should not have received the phone call.

Your gate was shut. And you left your driver no answer other than what your colleague told him on the fly.

Max believed Axel had a point that he had no answer other than what Mia had given him in the spur of the moment.

Smith held his hand out to Axel. Sir, I think it’s time you leave this office. We’re having a discussion with our driver. And only he can speak for himself.

Rick seconded the boss’s words. Yes. Advocate for him some other day.

I’m not leaving.

Leaving Smith’s side, Rick moved towards Axel. And that was when Axel raised his forefinger at him.

You touch me, and I will knock you to the floor and not experience the consequences.

Max knew this wouldn’t look good for Axel or him. Responding using violence was not a way for adults, who were professionals, to behave. That was what his mother used to teach him.

To this, Max held his hand out to Axel. Please . . . Axel, let me speak to them alone.

Axel paused while splitting his attention between Max and Rick.

I’ll be outside.

Axel hesitated and turned before exiting with the door closing behind him.

Max turned his attention to the boss. When did you find out about this?

A good question, answered Smith. Volkan, the shop owner, brought this to my attention at 9:45 a.m.

But you’re just telling me now? That was hours ago.

Yes, I understand that, Smith said in a condescending tone. We sent a driver to pick up the trailer while the mechanics serviced the truck. Because of the seal on the door, the driver thought the unit was full. At the time, it had already been emptied. The thieves slapped a new seal on the door. Volkan called me at the stated time, telling me what he found on his video footage from last night. Someone climbed in the truck and pulled away from the fence to get to the freight. We had police at the scene inside our yard. And that was when they saw the empty crates inside the trailer, which you pulled into the mechanic’s open gate. That’s when it finally came back to your blunder.

Sir, I’m convinced they’re not my keys because I slipped mine into the slot.

That is beyond the point, Smith replied. Rick or I did not instruct you to leave the trailer at the mechanic’s yard. Their gate was open for thieves to walk in.

I did what I could, and Mia knew I brought it there. I couldn’t get Rick.

I told you, answered Rick, I could not answer or reply to your messages at the time.

Max raised his hands in protest. But this was hours after I was stranded. I sent you a message that the mechanic in Pennsylvania called towing.

That was when you should have called me, Smith said, jumping in.

Max felt like he was speaking to a broken record. How many times will Smith mention this?

I’m not sure if I had your number then. I was looking for numbers.

What do you mean you couldn’t find my number? All drivers are supposed to have my number in case of emergency.

Rick joined in on this exchange. Max, you have a history of going on your long trips unprepared. Once, you took the wrong trailer from our yard, which you assumed had the unit number matching the paperwork. Twice, you left our office taking the paperwork without double-checking with me. You had only half the paperwork. Thrice, you attempted to cross into Canada without checking the pre-arrival review system online. They held you at the border crossing for a length of time. On many more occasions, you drove to the customer’s lot without calling to see if they would be there. Your history with BBT is marked by unpreparedness.

Max was starting to look like the only driver making mistakes. But was this true?

He asked, Are you telling me the other drivers are flawless?

No! None are flawless. But none are making the number of mistakes that you are making.

Smith now spoke, Your mistake has cost us thousands. Our accounting team has not estimated how much this freight will cost.

Was this true? Was Max the only driver who had ever cost the company thousands?

Max turned his face accusingly at his manager. Didn’t I hear that you connected the thieves to me?

Rick replied, It’s only speculation. So far, that hasn’t been determined.

I’m an honest, hardworking employee. How could you accuse me of having links?

I’m not accusing you of having links. I am, however, accusing you of being blatantly irresponsible.

This is how they see me? thought Max. I was not being irresponsible. I was doing my job.

However, Smith said, this cannot go unpunished. We’re going to investigate the matter further. While we’re investigating, I’m suspending you for a week without pay, effective today. Throughout this period, do not visit our property. Do not stop by the gate. Take whatever you need out of the truck, and leave. If you so much as drive by our property, there will be consequences.

Max stood before them, speechless. He had no other defense; what could he say? These bosses made their final decision, and the verdict was guilty on all counts.

Without a word, he turned and exited.

3

CHAPTER

M ax marched past Axel as he exited the office and to the truck without stopping. He felt his muscles tense because of the unfair treatment he had just received at his bosses’ hands. He had just been painted in an ungodly light when this was never a part of his upbringing. Anger rose like a boiling cauldron, and he did not want to speak to anyone. Max felt like he could burn the person who got too close to him, so he did not so much as want to see an yone.

He continued walking as Axel called to him repeatedly.

Max! What’s going on?

Biting his lips, Max turned. They suspended me for a week without pay. And Mr. Smith told me to stay away from this property.

Axel cursed. I knew they were up to no good. It’s not fair that they treat you like this.

You are right. It’s almost as if my bosses see a thief whenever they look at me.

A potential thief, Axel added. What are these two knuckleheads going to do?

Max walked on as Axel closely trailed. They told me they’ll do an investigation.

Axel let out another stream of swear words. Don’t let them be the only ones doing an investigation. We could do this ourselves.

Max stopped to face him with suspicion. Shouldn’t we let law enforcement do this?

We don’t need the popo for nothing! I say we do this ourselves.

And you said ‘we.’

Yes! We are going to investigate. Bro, you need me. You think I’m going to let you do all the work? That’s why I’m here.

Max continued his walk toward the company vehicle. How do you suggest we go about this?

Glad you asked. You’re coming to my shop tomorrow. They have the camera footage of what happened.

Where were the cameras pointed?

Not one hundred percent sure. That’s why I’m going to check with my boss tomorrow first thing.

Max climbed the truck but had Axel at the corner of his eye. I never asked. What’s your relationship with your boss like?

"Man,