Truckers Find Refuge From Road At Flying J

You might not notice at first.

But there are differences between a regular convenience store and one geared for truckers.

At the Flying J’s store on Broadway, just off Interstate 90, a sign greets all who enter. “Absolutely No Hitchhiking.”

And about five steps into the place, you come upon a door leading to a shower room.

Early Sunday night, the store wasn’t especially busy. But a few drivers who had stopped to refuel their big rigs checked out the selection.

One guy with a sunburned left arm studied a display of 17 different models of CB radio antennas.

Bins of shiny metal lug-nut covers beckoned nearby. They went for 69 cents apiece. You didn’t have to be an expert on wheels to know that they were way too big for a minivan.

For the most part, the store offers the usual lineup of beverages, beef jerky and what have you. But the variety of air-fresheners seemed to exceed what one might encounter at most quick-stops.

One spray in a black container was called the “Odor Gun.”

It promised to make that cab smell like new.

Sunday night tends to be an emotional turning point for many with Monday-through-Friday jobs.

But for the truckers among those wandering the aisles of the Flying J’s store, the concept of 9-to-5 and weekends off has little relevance - other than as a target of ridicule in country songs.

Drivers not in the mood for working class hero twang could choose from cassettes and CDs ranging from “The Monkees Greatest Hits” to “Lick it Up,” by Kiss.

They could check out a hand-held computerized game, “Bass Fishin’.” Or they could peruse Spokane postcards or a stack of T-shirts sporting various illustrated answers to the proposition that, “You might be a redneck if….”

They could shop for books on tape from a rack that included Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” and “Naked Lunch” by William Burroughs.

Stereotype 1997 truck drivers at your own peril.

A tall, slender guy with a mustache had been staring at a magazine for what seemed like a long time. Finally, he put it down. It was a copy of Chevy High Performance.

He glanced at his watch and turned to head out. He blinked and then opened his eyes extra-wide in that telltale way drivers do when they’ve been on the road a long time.

He waved to one of the young women behind the counter and walked out to his truck.

, DataTimes MEMO: Being There is a weekly feature that visits Inland Northwest gatherings.