Open Highways, Empty Checkbooks

"That's $8.32 an hour," says Aquilina, after tapping into a pocket calculator. "So we're each making $4.16 an hour." "I might as well get a job at McDonald's," Blaine says with a raspy laugh.

"You'd look cute in their uniforms," Aquilina jokes.

Blaine leases a truck from J.B. Hunt, a major trucking company, until he's able to buy the truck outright -- about 20 more months, he says. Then he'll be an independent trucker again (Blaine sold his last truck to pay health expenses when he learned he had Graves' disease). And though he's a company driver now, he must pay his own expenses on the road: food, gas, lodging, etc.

Eventually, Thursday evening becomes Thursday night. Blaine and Aquilina are up early Friday, but the new day proves fruitless as well. There is no word from J.B. Hunt.

"You know you didn't build a company up with 14,000 trucks and not have freight," Blaine says. "So why am I sitting here, one truck, and they're telling me there's no freight? No one ahead of me now all morning. And they can't find one load of freight in this area?"

While Aquilina gets on the phone with her family, Blaine, 47, sits at the same counter as the day before, drinking coffee and smoking. A black-and-white TV is broadcasting "The Maury Povich Show." Today's topic: "Make My Wife Look Like a Celebrity"; a woman with a big bush of hair and a wide mouth wants to look like Angelina Jolie.

"It's Friday," says a 30ish waitress, trying to console Blaine.

"That don't mean nothing in my world," Blaine says.

"Me either," admits the waitress.

At 10 a.m., Blaine gets the call he wants. Indiana someplace. That's more than 800 miles. A decent run. He doesn't know the details yet, but it's time to get going.

"Where's Iowa?" Aquilina asks, looking at the road map.

"On the other side of Illinois," Blaine says.