The first time I went out on a long-haul run with my Master, I suddenly heard someone calling my name in the middle of the night.
The voice made my heart race.
I leaned against the window to look out, but my Master suddenly yanked me back!
He rolled down the window with lightning speed and spat his cigarette butt out with a fierce flick.
Then, pointing at the pitch-black road outside, he let out a torrent of creative curses!
I was young back then and had no idea who he was yelling at.
I could only curl up in the passenger seat like a shrimp, not daring to make a sound.
Later, I spent over ten years driving long-haul trucks on my own.
I never again encountered a situation where someone called my name in the dead of night.
Until three days ago, when I suddenly received word that my Master had passed away.
