The hill loomed.
Darren wiped sweat from his eyes, flicking a look to the right.
The Peterbilt was almost level now, oily black smoke chuffing from it's stack. Engine growling it jerked forward.
Alternating pedals, crash-box clattering, Darren dropped through the gears, willing the Freightliner upward.
Advancing steadily the Peterbilt cut across him. The pok-pok-pok of the milled lip became a crunching as Darren's rig ate the wooden guardrail. The gravelled shoulder crept closer.
From a roadside diner ahead a satiated motorist pulled into their path.
The Peterbilt swerved, Darren seized the opportunity.
Double-clutching frantically, he crested the hill. Air horn blasting he fetched up and jumped from the cab.
The soot-blackened long-nose pulled up sharply, door bursting open.
Darren grinned. "Looks like breakfast's on you".
Charlie's gnarled hand clapped him on the back as they walked toward the diner.
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