As some of you know, I work on a highway maintenance crew in the northern part of Canada. I love my job as a whole because it's really cool compared to so many jobs I have had before. I never like to complain about it or devalue it because I know what it is to dread going to work at a job you hate and that pays a lot less.
No, I know I'm fucking lucky. I get to look at views like this when I'm working
and this
I really like my job for a lot of reasons.
That was my first mistake. I should have stayed the course and not dallied. If I had have left right then, one of my co-workers might have been dealing with this instead of me.
Did I mention that part of our job is cleaning up roadkill from the highway? Well, it is. See where I'm going with this?
So I am working on my third cup of coffee and I am heading for where our job was starting up that morning when I see a bunch of lumps on the road ahead. It's still dark, so I couldn't tell what it was. Probably someone lost a bunch of garbage. I slowed down and turned on my beacon light and hazards because our job also entails cleaning up the trash people litter the highway with.
Whatever hit it removed a hind quarter and completely eviscerated it in a fifty-foot long swath of destruction. I dragged off the hind quarter that was basically a couple of busted bones with a tender looking roast hanging off of them. I went back for the rest of the carcass that should have weighed a few hundred pounds more than it did. The only reason I knew there were three quarters left is the amount smashed feet I grabbed with my increasingly slippery gloves. I looked at the guts smeared all down the road as I pulled the makeshift body over the edge and into to the ditch bottom.
I was panting pretty heavily by now. I was glad that it was raining so hard as it seemed to keep the smell down. I was breathing hard enough that I probably could have tasted it if it wasn't raining.
I walked back to the truck and grabbed the flat mouth shovel. This part was going to be sketchy. As I started scraping at the far end of the smear, I noticed headlights coming. I could see that it was a tanker and it wasn't slowing down. The mist rolling off the tires was pretty intense. The jake brake should be kicking in about now.
I was right. As I watched him barrel through the carnage I noticed the colour of the mist turn from clear to a greyish brown. I shook my shovel and yelled "You motherfucker" into the diesel droning air around me. I tried to look that bastard in the eye as he went by but all I could see was the name on the door.
You ever try to stop a thin, acidic liquid from flying out of your mouth with a bloody leather glove on the side of the road?
Don't. It can be pretty painful and it really doesn't help at all. As the flood gates opened and I gave in to all of my body's urges I heard a woman say in a worried voice, "Oh my god, are you alright?"
I nodded my spewing head that I was and waved her away. I could see that she didn't know what to do. I finished hurling after a bit of dry heaving and then finished scraping the guts off the road. I was ready to go home but then I noticed I still had eight and a half hours left in my shift so it looks like I was going to be patching potholes with my new cologne on.