JDY Fiction - Leonard Dobbs - Peak Oil Entrepreneur

Jerry D Young · Sun Mar 14, 2010 3:29 pm

Leonard Dobbs - Peak Oil Entrepreneur - Prolog

The President’s announcement caused quite a stir, to say the least. The admission that Peak Oil was a real situation surprised many. Usage of oil was already over the production capacity of known and suspected oil reserves. What was truly amazing was the fact that there was no announcement of a plan to deal with the fact. So local political jurisdictions, corporations, businesses, private groups, and individuals began making their own plans.

What the oil companies did, without exception, was immediately triple prices from crude on up, and reduce production. The theory behind it was that the high prices and lower availability would lengthen significantly the time frame that petroleum products would be available in the future.

It didn’t trickle down, it flooded down. Pump prices jumped to five times the price from the previous day. Independent trucking operations came to a near standstill and commercial trucking firms upped the delivery prices by two-hundred percent and added a one-dollar per mile fuel surtax to boot. Railroad freight rates tripled. Commercial aviation came to a near halt, though general aviation remained fairly stable, despite the huge price increase of avgas.

When transportation came to a near halt, riots broke out over the higher fuel prices, the attendant lack of food deliveries, and extremely high prices of what food was available. Going elsewhere to get the food didn’t work for most because, even with the high price, the fuel for others wasn’t going anywhere because it cost the carriers too much to run. A vicious circle ensued. The economy came crashing down.

Since the US tended to try diplomacy first, and action later, if ever, on most trade items, the attempts to secure additional supplies of crude oil overseas ran into the problem of needing to fight allies, not just third-world countries.

Japan, China, Germany, France, Italy, Portugal, and Spain all sent troops to various oil producing nations and simply took over the fields, facing little opposition from the locals in the face of their overwhelming, it is going to happen no matter what, attitude. The US found itself needing to fight the rest of NATO on the end of a long, expensive, supply line. The US backed off from the fight and bit the bullet. Nowhere in the US and its territories was safe from exploratory and production drilling for oil.

The Great Britain cut off all exports, as did Russia, including natural gas to Europe. India, too, cut off exports. It didn’t take China long to take control of India’s oil fields, with the threat of nuclear war with India if India tried to use the nuclear option to take the fields back.

Japan, as she had during World War II, took over the Malaysian oil production fields. It was only a matter of time before Japan needed to acquire more than Malaysia could provide, but went no further during the start of the crisis.

The announcement came just after Thanksgiving, that is, as winter in the Northern Hemisphere was approaching. By spring two billion people were dead from the effects of the winter weather without heat, and starvation because of lost production and inability to ship what was produced.

When the winter in the Southern Hemisphere ended almost a year later, another two billion were dead of freezing, starving, disease, and violence over the other three causes of death.

Another year and the population of the world had fallen from over six billion to less than seven-hundred-million. The bulk of those were living between the Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn. Of those, most were living the same life they had led before the admission by the US President that Peak Oil was a reality. A rural, hand to mouth existence where winters were mild or non existent and there was enough rainfall that one person could grow enough food for a family on a small piece of land.

Europe became feudal once again, with the oil from foreign holdings controlled by a few.

Russia, though it didn’t fall back into communism, invaded and took control of all of the former Soviet Union nations, except for Germany. Russia then closed its borders, as did almost every nation that had control of any significant amount of the oil remaining in the earth.

Australia was a self-sustaining place and wanted little to do with anyone else. They kept a close eye on Japan, expecting a move from them at some point in time to take the resources they needed from Australia.

China, in the process of closing its borders expanded them first to lock in the oil resources of the South East Asia Mainland and sub continent. Its troops were spread too thin to take on the Japanese for the control of Malaysia, Micronesia, and Oceania, minus Australia, for the moment.

Southern Africa and Southern South America were sparsely populated after the die off, and under the control of European nations. The rest of Central and South America came under Brazilian control.

The rest of Africa and the Middle East were divided once again into colonies such as those that had existed in the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early twentieth centuries, with the former British colonial activities split between the other European Colonial powers.

The remaining people in most of the industrialized world were able to slide back into a 1890’s to 1920’s lifestyle, where oil was used, but in much smaller amounts.

The country hardest hit by the events in the two years after the announcement was the United States. If the US had acted earlier, it might have taken the Mexican oil fields, but again it tried diplomacy. The refusal of Mexico to continue to export oil to the US prompted Congress to pass legislation early on to send most of the illegal immigrants back to their home nations.

The laws were aimed primarily at Mexico, but it was across the immigration board and illegals, of whatever nationality, were sent packing during the first year after the announcement. It didn’t matter much after that. The will was no longer there to have any foreign activities. Not even in Mexico.

The US had been developed and populated at a time when technology was on an upward curve of development. US citizens didn’t have a history without technology. It was much harder for them to go back to a lifestyle of an earlier time that most of the rest of the industrialized world did.

What happened was a very sharp split between those that had access to oil supplies and the wherewithal to exploit them and those that didn’t. Most of the major refineries in the US lay idle, if not burned beyond use by rioters. Even if they had crude available to them, they couldn’t run, due to lack of electrical power to operate.

The national grid was down, and only areas with a local power plant using local resources for production had electrical power. Hydroelectric, geothermal, and wind-powered plants were the sources of electricity. Not a single nuclear power plant retained enough personnel to operate. All were either shut down normally, or scrammed safely automatically when the first anomaly in the operation occurred without a human to intervene.

There was plenty of coal available. The railroads weren’t running so it stayed where it was. Only where a coal-fired power plant was at or within a few miles of the coal source, did it run.

Many American cities become wastelands, mined for items of use or worth, but having little or no population of their own. Others, with local power sources continued to function, but only if there was a viable rural farming community close enough to provide food for those within the city environs.

Some of the localities were very cooperative, between the urban, suburban, and rural areas. Others, were not so cooperative, despite each needing what the other could provide. Food for the cities and manufactured goods for the rural areas.

And then there were those that had seen the future before it happened and prepared for the events that occurred. Mostly rural enclaves of families, friends, and church members, set up to be as self-sufficient as possible. And there were others that adapted rapidly to the situation and learned that it was sometimes easier to take at gunpoint than it was to farm for food or work for anything else they wanted.

A few enterprising people, who also saw the handwriting on the wall, set themselves up to continue civilization in a manner they believed best for themselves and everyone else. Of course, there were also those unaffiliated people that prepared or adapted to the post easy oil world in unique ways. The story of Leonard Dobbs’ post Peak Oil life perhaps best illustrates many of the results of the change from plentiful oil to scarce oil in the United States.

Leonard Dobbs - Peak Oil Entrepreneur – Chapter 1

“Lenny! I will not live like this any more! I’m leaving!”

Leonard Dobbs looked over at his wife of three years. The statement didn’t come as much of a surprise to him. Angela had made it known shortly after the marriage that she expected certain things in life and Leonard was required to provide them. Not indulge his hobbies.

“Don’t let the door hit you on…” Leonard leaned to one side to avoid the vase of fake flowers Angela picked up and threw at him. Moving calmly, but with just a bit of urgency, Leonard made himself scarce for a couple of hours. That was usually enough for Angela to calm down and become peaceable once again.

Two hours later, when Leonard returned to the house, he noticed immediately that the front door was standing wide open. “Uh-oh!” he said softly. It wasn’t a good idea to leave doors open in this neighborhood. Locking the doors of his truck with the remote, Leonard walked up to the porch steps, put his hand on the pistol he carried in the small of his back, and stopped.

“Angela?” he called, loudly. The gun came out when he heard rustling in the living room and two teenagers came running at him, empty handed. He made sure they saw the pistol, but made no aggressive moves as they edged past him and then ran off down the street.

Leonard sighed when he saw the pile of goods in the living room. Why anyone would want the stuff was beyond him. It wasn’t junk, as he often pointed out to Angela, but it certainly wasn’t worth stealing, in Leonard’s eyes. Of course, it would never occur to Leonard to steal anything, anyway.

After carefully going through the house room by room, pistol still in hand, Leonard decided that Angela might have meant what she said this time. All of her clothes were gone, as well as everything else in the house she valued, which wasn’t much. Leonard checked the door to the basement last, and a huge sigh of relief escaped him when he found it still locked.

Neither Angela or the teens had been down in the basement. Angela had no interest in his hobbies, and had not been down in the basement, or asked to go down there, since shortly after the marriage. Leonard’s worry was that she might have tried to destroy something of his in the basement. There wasn’t much out in plain view to attract her attention, but she could be pretty vindictive.

And the teens could have been a real annoyance if they’d made it down there and decided to trash the place. He was sure that they had intended to do the same upstairs, after taking their loot outside. It fit the MO of several other, similar, events in the neighborhood.

It took Leonard a couple of hours to get everything straightened up. Just as he was about to sit back down and watch a little television, the telephone rang. It was Angela. She was at her mother’s. “Send me some money to get a lawyer. I’m divorcing you.” She hung up before Leonard could say anything.

It was the way she was. She was going to divorce him, and expected him to pay for it. Funny thing was, while he wasn’t particularly eager, he wasn’t all that bothered, either. It was just the way she was. Leonard went to the desk that held the laptop and opened a drawer to take out the checkbook.

He started to write an amount down, but decided he ought to do it right. Angela probably had grounds for divorce. Leonard wasn’t the best husband around. He was more interested in his hobbies than indulging in Angela’s. All his buddies had declared her a real winner when they found out she was football fan and liked to drink beer and do tailgate parties when the team was in town. Leonard just wasn’t a sports fan. At least, not conventional sports. He didn’t have time for sports much.

Being a Long-Haul truck driver, with his own tractor and trailer, almost paid for, he wasn’t home all that much. When he was he wanted to indulge his own hobbies. He’d probably neglected her, he decided. “At least she hasn’t been cheating on me.”

So Leonard wrote the check out for half of what he had left in the bank from the last paycheck. He went back out to his pickup and drove over to Angela’s mother’s. Then he was shocked. At least a little. There was Frank Hodges making out with Angela when Leonard walked into the house without knocking.

The two rapidly adjusted their clothing and Angela stood up. Frank stayed where he was. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?” Frank asked.

For some reason it didn’t surprise Leonard that much. “Here you go, Angela,” he said, handing her the check.

Angela’s eyes lit up. “This’ll do it and more!” She was suddenly up against him, thanking him the same way she usually did when he did something that really pleased her. Leonard didn’t resist. It was probably the last time.

Angela was a touch flustered and looked over at a frowning Frank when she stepped back from Leonard.

“Uh… Sorry Leonard. That won’t happen again.”

“Okay,” Leonard replied. “I guess that’s it then. You’ll send me the papers to sign?”

Angela nodded. “Sure. You understand that I want the house. Right?”

“Oh. I guess. Give me a couple of days to move my stuff.”

“Sure. When do you leave on your next run?”

“Three days. It’ll be enough time.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you.”

Leonard nodded, and with nothing else to say, left the house. “Well, nuts!” he sighed, going back to the pickup. “So much for some range time this weekend, I guess.”

It was still early and Leonard went to find a secure, climate controlled, storage facility. He made the arrangements and spent the next three days moving everything from the basement to the storage room. When he was done, and had taken a shower at the truck stop, he parked the pickup in another storage room, this one not climate controlled, stretched out in the pickup bed in his sleeping bag and went to sleep, his wristwatch alarm set for five AM.

He was up before the alarm went off, and called a cab company to get a ride to the trucking company’s yard where he stored his semi truck and trailer between runs. It was the company he leased to. There he used the bathroom, got his paper work, checked his truck and trailer, climbed in, and headed out to pick up his firs load of this trip.

Leonard found himself wondering what he was going to do, without the house, or Angela in his life. “Well, the Angela part is easy,” he said to himself. He was the next thing to being abstinent, anyway. Might as well make it a way of life for a while. “Just have to rent a place, I guess, as far as housing goes,” he added a couple minutes later.

He picked up the load that morning in the city and headed for San Francisco. He didn’t like going into California. He wouldn’t risk going into California packing the pistol, or anything else. He simply wasn’t going to get arrested on a weapons charge. So he stopped in Reno and stashed the pistol and a few other things with a gun shop buddy. He’d pick them up on his way out of California.

Leonard was careful to only take loads to California where he could go in and out of the state through Reno. He gave a sigh of relief when he picked up his things at the gun shop in Reno after dropping the inbound load in San Francisco, and picking up a return load in the same city. He wasn’t going back home. The destination for the load was Salt Lake City, where he had another load that was bound for Montana.

It was much the same the rest of the month. Load after load, place after place. He was in Houston when the President made his announcement. “This is not good,” he muttered. He stopped and filled the truck using his company fuel card.

He’d picked up a reefer load at the harbor and fell in with a whole convoy of oilfield trucks that had also picked up some imported equipment. It was all long skid loads and there were a bunch of them. Curious, and not on a particularly tight schedule, Leonard stopped when the other trucks did for the night. Their over sized loads could not be moved at night.

“What is all this gear you’re hauling?” Leonard asked one of the men standing beside Leonard at the salad bar of the truck stop restaurant.

“Oil refinery. Believe it or not. Turn key thing, except for an electrical connection, and Cat is supposed to be putting a couple of megawatt size electrical generating plants for this refinery and another just like it that’s supposed to show up in another month. Some British outfit. Don’t know why we couldn’t have built something like that here in the states. Really need the jobs.”

Leonard listened and nodded, letting the talkative truck driver tell the story. “Going up to the oil fields in Oklahoma. Add some more refinery capacity right there in the middle of nowhere, amongst the wells.”

“I see,” Leonard said. “Interesting.” He went to his own table, filing the information in the back of his mind. He thought about the semi-mobile, turn-key, refinery several times over the next few days as the price of fuel jumped up. It wasn’t of top importance, however, when he got the load of frozen gulf seafood to its destination in Omaha, Nebraska and it was refused.

“I’m not about to pay that fuel surcharge!” the restaurant wholesale distributor told Leonard.

“Okay, Buddy,” Leonard said. He called it in and after a ten minute harangue, was told by his dispatcher to hold tight. So Leonard did, sitting in the sleeper of the truck, watching the beginnings of the riots on the satellite TV the truck had as part of the sleeper package.

An hour later the wholesaler knocked on the side of the sleeper and Leonard went out to talk to him. “Okay. We’re unloading. Your boss dropped the price back to something reasonable.”

Leonard nodded and positioned the trailer at the loading dock. With the truck unloaded and cleaned, Leonard checked the computer and found his next pickup wasn’t too far away. It was a strange load. He was to pick up two of the company trailers and take them home. It took an hour or so to get there and get the flatbed trailer and its dolly connected to the hitch on the reefer. A fuel tank trailer was piggy-backed on the flatbed already.

He didn’t need fuel, but decided to stop at the nearest truck stop to top off the tanks before he headed home. His company fueling card didn’t work at the pump and he went into the attendant’s kiosk. “Card’s not working,” Leonard told the attendant.

“Can’t you read?” the rather large man said, pointing out the window at a workman making a change on the pricing sign.

“Yep. I can read.” Leonard did. “Cash only, fifteen dollars a gallon.”

Leonard got on the cell phone and the truck’s computer to tell dispatch about the fuel. There was another tirade and the dispatcher told Leonard, “Leave the trailers at the truck stop and lock it up. I’ll wire your money we owe you to the truck stop, and then you’re on your own.”

“Don’t you want me to get the trailers back to the shop?” Leonard asked.

“Not with fuel at fifteen a gallon,” came the reply.

“But they’ll just get vandalized, or more likely, stolen, the way things are going!”

“Tell you what. I’ll keep your pay and you can have the trailers if you’re so concerned about them. How’s that?”

“Sign over the ownership papers, fax me a copy, and send the originals to my PO box and you’ve got a deal.”

“You’re serious!”

“Aren’t you?” Leonard asked.

“Well… Now that you mention it… I think Arley would rather have even a little money in hand than the trailers out there. You’re not the only truck that we’ve shut down due to the cost of fuel. You’ve got a deal. I’m sure Arly will sign the papers.”

Leonard hung up the telephone, but stayed on the computer. He had internet access through satellite and began looking for independent brokers, hoping to get a load to get him home, at least.

He was more than a little surprised when the all-in-one woke up and started spitting out paper in fax mode not long after his conversation with dispatch. The documents were the copies of the ownership papers for the trailers.

Leonard wasn’t sure it would fly if push ever came to shove, but he was going to operate now as if it was fully legal. He made a couple of calls and got a box trailer load, guaranteed fuel at the end, and pay up front, not too far away.

He went ahead and topped off the large tanks of the Kenworth using his own money, before he headed for the load pickup location. It was a warehouse complex, way out in the middle of nowhere.

Three other trucks pulled in right behind him. The drivers were met by a middle aged man, dressed head to toe in black combat garb, including helmet with visor, and a clone of a Colt M-4 carbine.

“What’s going on?” Leonard asked.

“No questions,” said the man, his attention split between the four truck drivers and the entrance to the grocery distribution warehouse. “You take the load and follow us where we’re going, or get out now. And what the in the four seasons is that piggyback set up for? And a reefer. We wanted box trailers.”

“My reefer is a box when the chiller isn’t running,” Leonard said. “And I’m taking the other trailers home.”

The guy shook his head. “I don’t know. Let me check.” He turned away and it was obvious that he was talking into the boom mike that curved from his ear to the corner of his mouth.

“Boss says okay. But you get loaded last.”

Leonard saw two more black clad, armed men push open three of the loading dock bay doors. “This is making me nervous,” Leonard said. “Is this some kind of raid or something?”

The armed man shook his head. “No. We own what’s inside and intend to get it before someone just takes it.”

Leonard was still a bit unsure, but the pay offered was good, as was the promise of fuel.

He hoped the destination was within fuel tank range of home. “I’ll go break down the trailers,” he said, and climbed back up into the Kenworth to move it out of the way for the others to get to the loading docks. He moved over to where several other trucks and trailers were parked.

Before he could get out of the truck he saw two more of the group run around to the front of the building, carbines carried at port arms. Once outside he could hear a commotion from that direction. Again he hesitated, but then began to disconnect the flatbed trailer and its cargo of the tank trailer from the reefer.

The task done, Leonard fired up the truck and moved to position it where he could back up to the first loading bay that became available. It was a long wait, but finally one of the other three trucks pulled away from the dock and Leonard backed into the slot. He got out of the cab of the truck and climbed up into the warehouse. It was nearly empty.

The one of the other men handed Leonard a clipboard and pen. “Log everything that goes in. It’ll go in the trailer.”

Leonard watched one of the black-clad men on the forklift as he loaded pallet after pallet of canned and packaged food into the reefer trailer. When the first four pallets were loaded two up, side by side, and then next pallet went on top of one of the stacks to make it three high, Leonard stopped the driver of the forklift. “You’re going to overload me.”

“You want the money, or not?” growled the man. “You don’t want to mess with us, bud. If I have to, I’ll drive this rig myself and you can go hang.”

Leonard’s fingers itched to draw his pistol, but he backed off. The trailer was heavy duty, and could handle an overload for a while, if the road wasn’t too rough and the speed was kept low. He wondered if either option would be open to him as he walked back to edge of the truck and watched the forklift driver keep loading.

The other drivers were standing around, their trucks loaded and the rear doors closed and locked when Leonard pulled forward so he could close his trailer doors and latch them.

“Let’s go!” one of the black-clad men said, waving a hand forward. The other drivers took to their trucks.

“Hurry it up!” the man said when he saw Leonard backing the reefer toward the flatbed.

Leonard did hurry when he heard shots fired, the sound coming from the front of the warehouse.

More men in black jumped down out of the warehouse and ran to the trucks. An armed man jumped onto the running boards of each of the other three trucks, and held their carbines in one hand. Several more got into black Suburbans that followed the trucks.

“Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!” yelled the leader of the group. He looked over his shoulder at Leonard. “Get on the stick, man! They’ll kill you if they catch you!”

“What did I get myself into?” Leonard asked himself as he connected the air hoses up between the trailers and then ran toward the cab of the Kenworth. He got it started up and watched the air gauge come up. The compressor was filling the lines of the flat bed trailer and he couldn’t move, yet.

The window of the cab was down and Leonard heard a battle royal break out. He saw two of the men in black run around the corner of the warehouse, but both went down with the floppy thud of a dead body.

Leonard killed the engine of the Kenworth and eased out of the truck on the side away from the activity. He took up a position behind the cab of another truck, keeping the engine between him and what was now a fire-fight. He heard the diesel engines of the three trucks roar in protest as the drivers floor-boarded the accelerators.

A few minutes passed, and the shooting sounds ceased. Leonard saw three ordinary looking men, except for the rifles they carried, come around to the back of the warehouse and climb up inside at one of the loading dock doors.

He also saw one of the men take a long look at the Kenworth and its odd trailer load out of a reefer, flat bed, and piggybacked tank trailer. Leonard tensed, but the man finally looked the other way and walked deeper into the warehouse.

A dozen pickups and some farm type grain trucks came around the corner of the warehouse and lined up at the loading dock. Each was loaded, the pickup trucks by hand, the larger trucks tall enough to load directly by forklift.

Leonard maintained a close watch on the activity, but made no move to contact the men working. When the trucks were all loaded and the drivers were taking them around to the entrance of the warehouse facility, Leonard tensed when the same man that had studied the Kenworth earlier, hesitated as he started to get into one of the pickups, and then started walking toward the group of parked trucks and trailers.

But another vehicle came tearing around the warehouse and drove right up to the man. Words were exchanged, and the man hurriedly climbed in beside the driver and the car took off, tires squealing.

Leonard stayed where he was for a long time, but as it started to get dark, he decided he’d better reconnoiter before he lost the light. There were the two men in black laying dead behind the warehouse. When Leonard got around to the front the place looked like a slaughterhouse. There were dead people all over the place, including several of the black-clad group, and even more of the ordinarily clothed attacking force. The three trucks and trailers were gone. From the looks of the skid marks, one or more of them had one or more flat tires, probably shot out during the gun battle.

Two black Suburbans sat on the rims, all the tires shot out and dozens of bullet holes in the bodies of the vehicles, primarily in the front fenders. There were several more vehicles that Leonard assumed were inoperable, as they were still at the site and were just as riddled with bullet holes as the Suburbans.

Feeling more than a little sick, Leonard searched the dead bodies and came up with several firearms still in working condition, dozens of magazines for the semi-auto weapons, and even more loose rounds. Then, feeling more like a simple thief and scavenger that a practical person making do, Leonard went back and took all the money from the bodies, leaving all the other personal effects where they were.

He went through the vehicles and found more weapons and ammunition, as well as a few other potentially useful items. Each of the Suburbans had an attaché case that contained Leonard wasn’t sure how much money, along with a pistol with two spare magazines each.

Leonard finally checked inside the warehouse and found three more dead. After stripping them of arms and money, Leonard fired up one of the forklifts. The loading dock had a ramp, so Leonard was able to take several selected pallets from the warehouse and load them on the flat bed trailer, under the tank trailer. He tarped and strapped them down when everything that would fit was loaded.

Feeling like he was pushing his luck, Leonard got back into the Kenworth, fired it up, and left the scene behind him. He had no clue where he was supposed to have taken the load and didn’t know who had wound up with the first three trucks.

After he was well away from the warehouse, Leonard slowed down to a more comfortable speed, considering the heavy load he was carrying, and also considering the other things that were now locked in the under the bed storage area of the sleeper. He didn’t want to break down, or get stopped for speeding.

There wasn’t much traffic on the interstates, but Leonard found a good place to get well off the highway to park for the night. He slept in his clothes, on top of the bedclothes, his pistol under the pillow. Leonard woke up several times, startled by night noises that normally wouldn’t have bothered him.

Awake and up before six the next morning, Leonard put together a breakfast out of the remaining contents in the sleeper fridge, used the chemical toilet that the sleeper also boasted, and then watched the news over the satellite TV. It wasn’t good. Apparently what had happened at the grocery warehouse yesterday where Leonard had been wasn’t an isolated incident.

Leonard got back on the road and headed for home. He stopped often, topping off the fuel tanks on the Kenworth as often as he could, paying dearly for the fuel. He paid using the money he’d taken from the men, first, and then dipped into one of the attaché cases, keeping his own money intact and separate.

He stopped in every city along the way and converted the blood money in the second attaché case into gold and silver coins.

There were only a few other trucks on the road and Leonard was able to drop into a convoy headed past where he was going. There was safety in numbers, and for the two days it took to get home, Leonard was able to sleep easy, with the other trucks parked near his, all of them stopping at the same time and eating at the same truck stop restaurants.

The meal stop on the last day confirmed the rumors rampant on the CB. There was very little food left in restaurants, and it was as bad or worse in the grocery stores. Leonard fully understood that what he was carrying was worth a fortune. Or worth being killed over, as it already had been.

Instead of going to the company truck yard, Leonard stopped outside the city before he got home and parked the truck near a friend’s old barn. Leonard dropped the stands on the flatbed, and pulled the reefer and dolly free. Stopping at the rear of the flat bed, Leonard unhooked the dolly and managed to get it connected to the rear of the flatbed.

He parked the reefer in the barn. Fortunately it had large doors on each end and he was able to pull straight through. Leonard dropped the stands on the reefer, unhooked, and backed the Kenworth under the flat bed trailer, hooking it up. He closed the barn doors and locked the barn again, replacing the key he’d used to unlock them back in its secret hiding place.

Before he went to the truck yard so he could get the tanker truck unloaded, he went by the post office. The ownership papers were, in fact, there, signed and dated for the day Leonard had made the transaction.

Using the company’s two big forklifts, with the help of two of the other truckers, Leonard picked up the tank trailer and set it down on the dolly when another driver pulled Leonard’s truck forward enough for the tank truck to clear the flat bed.

Both of the other drivers looked at the tarped load. One came right out and asked what it was. The other driver asked Leonard where Leonard’s reefer was. Leonard’s ownership of the flat bled and tanker were the talk of the drivers that were left working for the company.

Leonard just shrugged and said, “Private load. Owner doesn’t want it known what it is.”

“Do you even know what it is?” Petey asked, always one to try and annoy the other drivers.

“Do you think I’d haul a load and not know what it is?” Leonard asked.

Petey laughed and told the other drivers that had gathered, “He doesn’t even know what he’s hauling!”

“Any chance of another load like it?” one of the other drivers asked. “I really need some work.”

Leonard felt bad, but said, “Sorry. This was a one shot deal. Isn’t the company getting some local runs for you day cab drivers?”

All but Petey shook their heads. “I got one,” Petey said. “Unlike these two junk trailers of yours, Arley wanted those three custom go-anywhere motorhome chassis’ that him and his buddies were having built.”

“Way things are going, those are going to be scrap metal before Arley can do anything with them now. Big waste of money, even when it was doable, if you ask me,” said Duncan Jones, another of the company drivers. He spit a stream of tobacco juice to emphasize his statement.

The small group walked over to where the three large chassis sat, looking oddly out of place. Like they belonged on the Moon, or Mars, roving and taking pictures, gathering data and rocks.

They were Kenworth triple rail HD chassis’, with 1,200 hp Caterpillar engines and transmissions, and seven equally spaced axles. All the axles were steering type axles, with through pinions, except the front and rear axle, which didn’t need the through pinion.

The tires were super singles high capacity, high flotation, run flats with beadlocks. It could skid steer on soft ground, proportional steer, track steer with all the tires on each side tracking the one in front, and crab steer where all the wheels turned in the same direction.

“Big waste of money,” Duncan reiterated.

“Okay, you guys!” said Frank Dearborne, the day dispatcher. “Break it up! Those things are no concern of yours. What are you doing here?” The last was directed at Leonard.

“Just took the tanker off piggyback.”

“That’ll be fifty bucks,” Frank said. He held out his hand.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Leonard asked, taking his wallet from his rear pocket. He counted out two twenties and a ten.

“Thanks,” Frank said, a little more casual now. He stuffed the money into his shirt pocket. “Arley’s looking for any way to stay open. Keep some of the company fleet going, at least. Sorry about the independent leasers like you. Arley just can’t pay the price.”

Leonard took another look at the Kenworth motorhome chassis and had something of an epiphany. A vision into the future. “I wonder what he would take for those things, and some trailers and dollies?”

“I don’t think he’s going to want to sell them. You don’t have what it would take, sport. Though some trailers and dollies, I’m sure he’d sell. We have anything you could want. But believe me, Arley’s no fool. He’s not going to give something away for a few bucks. Not the way things are going.”

“I’ll wait a while and see what he says then. If he has a prospective buyer for the chassis’, let me know. I’ll make it worth your while if I get first crack at them.”

“You’re out of your mind… but… sure… If it looks like they’re going to be sold, I’ll let you know.”

The two men shook hands, and then Leonard got into the Kenworth and went back out to his friend’s property. He parked the truck, shut it off, and climbed into the sleeper. Feeling safe for the moment, he stripped down, took a sponge bath, and slipped between the sheets of the sleeper bed.

He had a dream that night, though he couldn’t remember exactly what it was, he did know he wanted those three Kenworth chassis’ more than before. As he prepared and ate breakfast, more of a plan came to him.

First he needed a base of operation. One that would be secure when he wasn’t there. The essentially abandoned barn his friend, Alex Coombs, owned wasn’t secure enough. But Alex’s main farm complex was a different story.

Alex had mentioned a time or two that if things got bad, Leonard would be welcome at the ranch, as long as he brought his own food and equipment. Well, he’d had that before he acquired the other two trailers, and the spoils of the little war at the warehouse.

Leonard parked the two trailers in the barn. There was room left for the truck, but that was all. He went into the city and stopped at the rental place. He decided he’d better check with the office on how to pay the upcoming rent for the two storage rooms.

The woman behind the desk looked harried. She set the phone down in the cradle with some force and then looked up at Leonard. “I hope you’re not here to try and get out of your contract.”

“No, actually,” Leonard said, “I was wondering how to continue it. The way things are going…”

“The owners have said no price roll-backs. Going to be no checks, or credit cards. Cash on the barrel head. And the rates are going up the first of the month.”

“How much?” Leonard asked.

“Double.”

Leonard whistled. “Double. That’s going to be tough. I’ll let you know before the end of the month.”

That put some urgency to finding a place of his own. The pickup had a tow bar and it took just a couple of minutes to get it hooked on the back of the semi truck. He headed to Alex’ place.

It had been a few months since Leonard had been to the combination farm, ranch, and anything else to make a dollar holding. There were subtle differences in the place that Leonard noticed immediately. The road ditch had been dug out and there was a new security fence running along the edge. The entrance was essentially a large cattle guard, the looks of which caused Leonard to believe that the grate could be moved fairly quickly to deny access to the place from the main road.

Though the grate was down, Leonard decided it would be polite to stop and ask for entrance, rather than just drive in. So he stopped the truck, walked over to the gate post that had an intercom box on it and pressed the button.

Alex’ wife Nan answered. “Who is it and what do you want?”

“It’s me, Nan. Leonard. Is Alex around where I can talk to him?”

“Oh. Leonard! It’s good to know you’re still okay. Alex was worried about you. He’s working in the main equipment barn. Just drive on back. I’ll let him know it’s you.”

“Thanks.” Leonard got back into the truck and drove through the gate and down the gravel driveway that split, one section going to the house garage and the other to the farm and ranch buildings behind the house.

Alex was waiting, with a big grin on his face, when Leonard climbed down out of the truck. The two men shook hands and Alex said, “You’re planning to come out here for the duration, I hope.”

“I know you’ve invited me, but I wanted to double check. Make sure you have room. I’ve got a project in mind and it’s going to take a lot of physical space.”

“I can’t afford to build another barn, but I have open space,” Alex said as they walked into the equipment barn. There were three men, all in welder’s garb, and the blinding light from the electrical welders was hurting Leonard’s eyes. He faced the other way and Alex did the same.

Copyright 2008

JDY Fiction - Leonard Dobbs - Peak Oil Entrepreneur

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