Night now filled the cab.The signs assured them they were getting closer to the U.S. border. The lights of the huge customs buildings appeared on the horizon and Steve felt good about getting back home, hoping the backup wouldn't be too long.

Passing under flooding overhead halogens, Steve eased the truck to a stop behind the car in front of him. Only eight car lengths back. Beautiful, this will go quick, he thought. He figured he better remind Ollie, who had been unusually quiet for the past 10 miles, about not acting up in front of the guards. He turned to his buddy who wore somewhat of a frightened look. Ollie was reaching around, feeling around his seat, looking under his feet.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked.

Ollie's head swung around, panic in his eyes, his mouth drawn crooked. "I lost the weed!"


"I lost the weed! It must've fell out in the cab! I don't know how but it's not in my pants!"

"Holy shit, Ollie," Steve said, trying not to panic. "Just try and calm down, man. They can tell if you're all freaked out."

He flicked on the cab light. Ollie was scurrying, searching, practically climbing his five and a half foot frame onto the dashboard. His panic was growing, he felt like he was going to lose it. He couldn't find the weed!

Steve looked up, and moved the truck up slowly. Seven car lengths away.

"C'mon Ollie. Where the fuck is it!"

Ollie was almost buried under the dashboard, he was frantic, arms flailing, feeling, fingering around the floor. "I can't find it!"

Steve couldn't believe this was happening, how could Ollie be so irresponsible? So ignorant?

Six car lengths.

"Dammit, Ollie. Are you sure you didn't put it back in your duffle bag?"


"Well look again," Steve shouted sternly. "You need to find that shit pretty damn quick because we're getting close here!"

Five car lengths.

"Alright, look," Steve said. "Just calm down, let it go, we're almost there. Just quick freaking out. If we can get through the checkpoint then I'll pull over and we'll find it." Steve was feeling his own panic increasing, but he had to remain in control to keep Ollie grounded. The poor guy was near breakdown.

Four car lengths.

"How much weed was there?" Steve asked.

"I had ten ounces," Ollie replied sullenly, almost feeling beaten.

"Crap, that's a lot."

Three car lengths.

"Can we turn around, maybe?" Ollie asked. "We could just say we forgot something and just remembered. We need to go back and get it. That shit happens all the time, right?"

"Ollie, I'm not going to fucking turn around now! There are cars behind me. We're almost there dude, please just chill out."

Two car lengths.

"If they find it, I'll just tell 'em I don't know where it came from!" Ollie suddenly decided.

"Oh, that's just freakin' brilliant. It's my car idiot! If it's in my car I'm responsible! I'm not taking the fall for you this time, Ollie. That's bullshit. You're way too into this crap. You're smuggling drugs across the border! If they find it, you better damn well admit it's yours."

"Do you know what would happen to me if I get caught with it?" Ollie asked, almost pleading Steve to take responsibility just one more time.

"Do you know what would happen to ME!" Steve blurted back, thinking of his own fall from grace.

One car length.

"Fucking ten ounces of weed. I can't believe you, Ollie. I really can't believe this shit. We're gonna get busted because you just had to get high. Are you addicted? What's your problem?"

The Drive
American Jokes
West Hastings
Waiting Room
Homeward Bound