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There is a certain category of people for whom the road is the main meaning of their life. Danil Zazybin's father was a truck driver. From childhood, the boy dreamed of being like him, and also traveling along the roads of Russia and the whole world. He was fascinated by the clear dividing lines, the shiny asphalt, the succession of cities and villages flashing behind the glass of the car. Danil's dream came true, and in 1999 he became an international transport driver.

Danil Zazybin has an irregular working day: it can start at either 5 or 2 pm. The start of the shift depends on how late the previous flight ended. It often happens that you have to work at night and rest during the day.

The truck cab is equipped with a tachograph - a special device with the help of which the transport inspection monitors the observance of the working regime and the rest of the drivers. Truckers have the right to work no more than 9 hours a day. After that, they should definitely rest.

According to Danil, European inspectors are very strict in enforcing labor standards. If violations are identified, they can be fined several thousand euros. There is still no such strict control on the territory of Russia. The system began to develop only this year, but not all cars are equipped with the necessary equipment yet.

Danil drives a white German-made DAF truck tractor. The weight of the machine is over 17 tons, and its length is 17 meters. Despite the huge dimensions of the truck, the driver says that it is quite easy to operate. You just need to get used to it.

Danil Zazybin does not have time for long conversations. The trucker needs to hit the road, because tonight he plans to cross Belarus. V daytime when the air warms up by more than 25 degrees, the movement of heavy vehicles is prohibited on the roads of this country. Moreover, few people will enjoy a long parking lot on the hot asphalt.

Truckers from Russia - jack of all trades

Slowly turning the steering wheel, Danil Zazybin says that in the old days truckers often had to fix various malfunctions of their car themselves. Europeans considered Russian truck drivers to be jack of all trades. They could replace not only wheels or brake linings, but also perform major engine repairs. But today's equipment modern cars does not "dispose" to self-elimination malfunctions: in case of any serious breakdown, you have to contact the service.

A walkie-talkie is installed in Danil's car, from which male voices are heard. Other drivers eagerly "wash the bones" of someone's mother-in-law.

Danil explains that all trucks are equipped with radios tuned to the same wavelength. They help drivers in unforeseen situations. With the help of a walkie-talkie, truckers can discuss traffic situation or just talk about any topic that interests them. It is worth asking a question in the walkie-talkie, and the conversation starts by itself.

Comfort and convenience of modern heavy-duty trucks

Modern trucks differ in many ways from their predecessors. Today they, by right, can be called mobile homes. The cab is so high that it allows the driver to stand upright. Here, behind the driver's seat, there is a comfortable sleeping place with a blanket, mattress and pillow. And if you remove it, you can see the camp kitchen with refrigerator and stove.

It is worth saying that the cabin of the car, which Danil Zazybin drives, is not decorated with various small objects that are so often found in heavy-duty torpedoes. The driver believes that they interfere with the normal view, so only the icon is installed in his car.

Lunch break is approaching, which usually lasts 45 minutes. If you choose between going to a cafe and eating in the car, then most truckers will stop at the second option. Time is enough to cook something worthwhile. Some drivers have a bite to eat with sandwiches, while others prefer a full meal.
Smiling, Danil says that once he even fried pancakes for himself. And some drivers, in general, can cook jam. During long stops, truckers always prepare their own food, and they do it quite well. And if you are tired of everyday meals, then other drivers will never refuse a new, healthy recipe.

If you go to a cafe every day, then there won't be enough money for that. Truckers involved in international transport try to eat in public places no further than Poland. For example, a very modest breakfast in Germany costs at least 500 rubles. That is why it is much more profitable for drivers to cook their own meals on their own.

Trucker everyday life - parking difficulties

A white truck with Russian license plates stops to refuel. To fill full tank, it takes a lot of time, because it holds 1.5 tons. Despite not too much high quality Russian diesel fuel, truckers try to refuel at home, because fuel prices in Russia are 2 times lower. While the tank is filling up, Danil talks about the purpose of a small platform on which several heavy trucks are standing. It turns out that the bulk of such parking is far from free, but it is unlikely that it will be possible to have a good rest on them.

According to the trucker, there are few quality parking lots in any country in the world. This forces drivers to drive into several places. Nevertheless, if you compare Russia and other states, then, for example, in Germany you can take a shower and wash soiled clothes. You will hardly find such a parking lot on Russian territory. Stopping at a chosen location, some drivers prefer to spend time alone, while others - discuss the news with colleagues in the company.

Polite Truckers

After refueling, Danil continues on his way. With favorable road conditions the truck can travel at a speed of 90 km / h. This is the maximum limit set for heavy vehicles. If the trucker is not delayed by traffic jams or repairs on the roads, then he can drive almost 700 km per day.

My interlocutor notes with surprise that hitchhikers have stopped standing on the roadside lately. In previous years, neither the summer heat nor the winter cold stopped them.

Danil has no partner, but this does not mean that he is bored on the way. A man can admire the surrounding landscapes and communicate by radio with other truck drivers. Musical rhythms do not subside in the car: mostly disco 80s or Spanish music sounds from the radio. Following the truck, two "cars" are moving. Danil sees that the road ahead is empty and blinks with a turn signal, informing the drivers that the path for overtaking is clear. Truck drivers are renowned for their politeness.

As you know, truckers are mainly professional drivers. But, despite this, car accidents are not uncommon on the road. Heavy trucks are not distinguished by good maneuverability, so it is rather difficult for them to get out of a skid. If it hits a wet roadside, a 20-ton "whopper" can roll over or fly into the oncoming lane. In winter, truckers experience other difficulties: it is difficult for their cars to enter an icy hill or break out of a snow "mess". To facilitate the solution of such problems, Danil Zazybin opted for mechanical box gear.

Dedicated to Truckers: Love of the Road

What is the main quality that distinguishes truck drivers? Our interlocutor believes that this is patience. Day after day is not necessary: ​​sometimes the shift is very calm, and sometimes the driver has to spend a lot of his nerves. Probably every trucker had thoughts about quitting his job. But after sitting at home and having calmed down a little, he again begins to pull on the road. The road becomes a lifestyle. Real truckers cannot imagine their existence without movement. Love for the road, practically, develops into an addiction.

Driving life is not easy. A trucker makes about two trips per month, each of which lasts at least 12 days. Naturally, the family sees the driver for no more than a week.

Danil looks at pictures of his wife and child and says that his family is used to his lifestyle. The man says he has always been a truck driver. In order to somehow compensate for his constant absence from home, he tries to devote as much time as possible to his family. Together they take a lot of walks, his wife Danila even went on a flight with him a couple of times. She says she was satisfied.

Nuances of international long-range: border control

The working day is coming to an end. You can prepare for dinner and relaxation. Tomorrow Danil will cross the border with Germany. There are many stories about long-term truck stops at the borders. For example, an entry from Poland to Belarus can last at least a week.

Danil remembers his own negative experience when crossing the border with Finland. He got a detailed inspection of the entire cargo, which lasted more than a week. It was a 30-degree frost on the street, cars lined up in a huge queue and moved incessantly. Therefore, day after day, Danil was in constant tension and practically did not sleep.

Despite the difficulties of the profession of a truck driver, Danil considers it his "road" love. It allows you to see a lot of new things and meet interesting people. The life of a trucker goes in a circle: being on a flight, he seeks to find himself at home as soon as possible, and after waiting for a rest, he again wants to feel the "taste" of road romance.

Video: long-range range in Europe, what you need to take with you first

He found us himself, stopped us right in the middle of the street. In those days, clients still ran after cars themselves, and not vice versa. Let's go, he says, guys to Surgut? We need to drag the cucumbers and apples there. I don't remember how much he charged us at that time, but judging by the fact that we agreed on the move, it was enough.


I don’t remember how much he charged us at that time, but judging by the fact that we
agreed on the move, it was enough.
We filled the arrow with him for loading, took a deposit and, satisfied, went to prepare on a trip to Surgut.
My partner, though young, was already married and, as a good family man should, had a mistress on the side. He left for his wife's flight today, and the money burned his thigh and he left me to prepare the car, and he rushed to his sweetheart. By that time, I had already gained strength and growth, but I had not yet developed masculine charm in myself, and therefore I did not have a permanent girlfriend, but interrupted where and how I had to.
I drove KAMAZ for loading and went home to sleep off and rest before the road. In the morning, the car was loaded, but there was still no partner for the dispatch. We are waiting for him for an hour, two ... he is gone. Then there were no cell phones, and we had no choice but to drive through the whole city under prohibitory signs on a loaded KAMAZ behind it, risking on the way to get on the grandmother when meeting with traffic cops.
Also, the customers - the Uzbeks wanted to save on the ticket to Surgut and insisted that we take one passenger, in addition to what is allowed by the rules, like, we will bred ourselves on the way for him. We come to her house, I collapse, he sleeps, no, he tumbled with her all night and how much he drank, now he doesn't even know himself.
And at that time I did not have a license, they had just been stolen from me, and then I did not have time to retake it for new ones, but drove in black, sometimes buying temporary coupons from the traffic cops.
Well, I let him wake him up with folk methods (with cold water on his head), he woke up - I see him like a Turkish saber.
Mlaya, I have to go, I have no license - it is blue, and at the exit there is a traffic police post and what will be stopped, there is no doubt. I refreshed it a little in a cold shower, he ate as much as he could so that he would not smell of fumes. The owners of the cargo, already there, went to shit during this time, waiting for me and my partner in the car, not knowing what had happened. He took a bottle of sunflower oil with him from a friend, as you know, according to popular belief, oil envelops the stomach with a film and the fume is supposedly not so much audible, because only he could go through the post.
How I felt sorry for him ...
Here he is already sausage not childishly from a hangover, and he still shoves this oil into himself, overpowering vomiting spasms. It would be appropriate to note here that sunflower oil used to be not at all as refined and pleasant as it is now, people of my age and older remember this for sure.
Here we are approaching the post. Stop. The traffic cop almost stumbling to catch the falling cap from his head, runs such a joyful bastard, the loaded truck is immediately visible and he is already all in anticipation of how much dough he’s going to get from us now.
Well, of course, they find our extra passenger, and drag their partner to the checkpoint.
Either from fear, or from a hangover flavored sunflower oil already green.
Neither alive, not dead, cursing to himself everything in the world, including the traffic policeman-Kazakh, goes after him, trying not to breathe at all, so as not to overthrow the cop with fumes. I don’t know what they were doing there for so long, but somewhere in a little over an hour they came out and a clear relief was read on the face of their partner.

We went with grief in half. Having left for the post farther, the partner climbed into the bedroom
branch, and I got behind the wheel. In front of the Kazakh customs office in Bashmachny, our passenger suddenly remembered that not all the documents were in order to go through customs and generally admitted, bastard, that our truck, it turns out, was half loaded with apples, and only the backside was filled with cucumbers, for which the documents were more or less in order. Now, after many years (this was in 1994), I am amazed at how naught we were then, without fear and blah reproach, well, just like the ancient knights who fought with windmills.
We did not bother to present that passenger for a long time, but after throwing a little price for the risk, we wrote without long reasoning to go through the fields to bypass the customs (!!!)
So that I subscribe to this again! Uuuuuuu !!!
Spring - the fields were still not dry, the field roads, respectively, were washed out, we drove up to half of the bypass road almost without incident, but then on the road we met a KAMAZ with a trailer loaded with coal, which, just like we were looking for "easy" ways ... He stood in a huge puddle formed on the road and got stuck on a hike at the very least. We stopped, approached the driver, he said that his partner had taken to the collective farm for
a Kirovite already an hour ago and, in theory, should soon be with help.
It was beginning to get dark and after two and a half hours of waiting we ran out of patience, we wanted to try to go around it on the side of the road in the field.
Gee, and, of course, they stood up as another "monument" to the Soviet off-road next to him, but now it was much easier to wait for the Kirovets, for there was no other real way out. When a resident of Kirov arrived, he first tried to pull out a dump truck with coal, but he sat tight and drove the Kirov resident considered that we were more promising clients, and having pulled us out, he left that dude to spend the night in the field, and dragged us on a rope, because the remaining the road was wet since spring, and every now and then we fell through, without directly leaving the grader, and at the same time he showed us the way, in the dark it was no longer so good
it is clear where the right direction is.

After a couple of hours of stubborn struggle against the road, we, with God's help, drove around this damned customs. As soon as I got behind the wheel, I suddenly heard a sharp and frequent knock in the engine. They stopped, pulled up the cabin, and, walking around, determined by unscrewing the nozzle that the valve ring had crumbled.
There is nothing to do, I, as the youngest and smartest on the tongue (with a note of pride), catch a ride and go to some nearby collective farm for twenty kilometers.
Lucky, right at the edge of the farm ran into a guy who had the cylinder head we needed at home and could see with the naked eye a strong desire to drink that evening. He took me back on his motorcycle along with the head, remaining until the end of the repair, in the hope that we still could get something from the stocks of the collective farm Mashdvor.
We finished after midnight and moved on.

To be continued...

The story of a young trucker ...
It happened to him during the next flight. He went there alone, as his partner, unfortunately, fell ill. And here our hero goes, it's a dark night outside - at least gouge out his eye. Looks, a girl is standing by the side of the road, she is voting.
He did not like to take random fellow travelers, but this time he decided to deviate from his rules and find out if help was needed. He stopped and only then saw the young lady's “uniform”: a skirt “a la wide belt”, fishnet tights, an open T-shirt - in general, everything is as it should ... No doubt about it, prostitute. The only thing that surprised the guy at that moment was the strangely chosen "location". There is a forest on both sides of the road.

I will not say “this is such a good friend of mine, he cannot lie”. I myself do not quite believe in this story, but nevertheless I decided to write about it.
I immediately apologize for the non-literary nature. I do not want to embellish, it is written as above, from memory. I didn't add anything from myself.
———————————————
Sergey was returning from a flight to Yekaterinburg. I entered the city from the side of the Turunovsky cemetery, the largest in our city. It was between 2 and 3 am.
Approaching the main gate of the cemetery, he saw an inverted nine. I stopped and thought to help people. When I approached, I saw a trail of blood, such as when a body is being dragged, directed to the gates of the cemetery.

A mystical story that has become one of the legends of truckers.
It was getting dark, the fog was falling. Tired truck driver Andrey yawned and wanted to talk to someone. The second day on the road and not a word from the mouth. Suddenly, on the side of the road, he noticed a man in overalls and a tank helmet. The driver stopped and opened the door in a friendly manner
- Brother, can you share the diesel fuel? - asked the tanker
- And what, from the unit all the ensign stole? - Andrey asked jokingly
- We are not laughing now, brother. Help out better than your comrades. The enemy is near.
- Hehe, what is the enemy? Do you have teachings? Well, okay, he served himself I know that it is necessary to help out each other.
The driver, smiling, took out two canisters and handed them to the tanker.

My father is a trucker. As far back as I can remember, he was always on the road, so my mother and I saw him, God forbid, once a month. But on the other hand, he brings something unusual from each flight, and sometimes he tells different stories. Anything happens on the road, especially when you go far and alone: ​​they can attack (after all, truckers pick up fellow travelers - who knows what kind of person you picked up), and unexpected breakdowns happen, and sometimes oddities happen. For example, about a couple of months ago, my father arrived from the next flight much later than he should have (he went somewhere in the wilderness, three hundred kilometers from Ulyanovsk, where we live), but this strange one arrived, silent.

What is the most important thing in the work of a truck driver? Knowledge of traffic rules and the ability to keep the steering wheel in your hands for days? Nothing like this! The main thing is to be ready for any surprises and be able to use them to your advantage. Somehow, in the middle of the 90s, fate brought us to Omsk. We are me, my partner Kolka and our "Kamaz Ivanich", as we called it from time to time. In Omsk, they fooled us: they brought the cargo, threw it to a warehouse in the industrial zone, the owner got into the car, clicked: "Follow me to the company - get a calculation!" As soon as we drove off three kilometers, he gassed - and fell through the ground! They poked around, pushed around - they could not find it.

We wrote a sign "Empty", as expected, stood near some market, we sat, gnawing seeds, humming with our tummies. Kolka dialed free newspapers, took the last trifle, and called dispatchers on the phone.

We roll for ourselves swiftly, but neatly - all the same we carry live cargo in the back, well, the owner said the term - in two days, no more, deliver. We drove off a little from Omsk - a traffic cop on the road! Kolyan came out with a whole bunch of papers to him: costly for the cargo, as it should be (we wrote it out for ourselves), a good list (we did it ourselves), documents for the car (they gave it to us in the traffic police), and a certificate from a veterinarian - this is he gave us the gypsies just in case. Well, the traffic cop did not have any questions about the documents for the car, neither did the costly and good-looking list, but he suddenly got to the bottom of the veterinary certificate: the seal is not so round, and the handwriting is not legible, and the name of the veterinarian is equine, just like Chekhov's - Ovs. We break it this way and that way - no, he stubbornly rested like a ram: “I’m throwing out your arrest car, and we will inspect everything specifically - what kind of stallions and where are you taking them!”.

Here Kolyan somehow so cunningly twisted himself and says in such a decent basque: Comrade inspector! Let's go to the body.

And here at one moment a certain man appears. Gypsy. And the saying goes, guys, so and so - you need to transport 2 stallions to Moscow. In some places near Omsk there is a stud farm, and so he bought it for himself. Well, of course: a gypsy without a horse is like a bird without wings! And for us - even a devil of a bald one already load, since we have been sitting on the same seeds for two days. He sat down in our cab, drove off somewhere out of town, to some village. On the last solarium actually. In the afternoon we woke up, went to look - what they had prepared for us there.

And there, however, two horses, dark and snow-white! Wonderful! Although, maybe these were stallions ... And the gypsies are here with them. Kolka went to bargain at the cost, and so far I helped to get these stallions into the back. They gave us some hay, I'll show you the trough as it is! Admire! What you see at the moment - no one has ever seen before you!

Yes, what is there to admire, then - is on your own traffic cop. - Horse thieves hired you, and you are happy! You are entitled to a criminal article for this!

These, by the way, are not ordinary horses! Nikolai Petrovich suddenly got upset. - Have you, comrade inspector, watched the movie about the Victory Parade in the cinema at least once? There Marshal Budyonny at Marshal Zhukov's parade on what does he perceive? On a stallion! Budyonny has a snow-white stallion, and Zhukov has a dark one! Remember?

“Well, I remind you of something like that,” you can see how the balls behind the rollers began to move in the inspector’s head.

So there you go! Although you cannot speak, you are a municipal person. I'll tell you! This is the snow-white horse of Budyonny! And the dark one is Zhukova. Then how did it happen: after the Victory Day parade, these horses lived in a special equestrian unit, near Moscow. And later, when the persecutions began against Zhukov and Budyonny, the cult of Stalin's personality, they were sent here, to Siberia, by reliable people! So that no one can deal with them under a hot hand! But the data on these stallions in the Museum of the Armed Forces, which stands on Red Square, have been kept all these years. And now we decided that we need to bring these horses back to Moscow! Well, it is clear that the horses themselves did not survive, but these are their direct descendants! And now, when our next Victory Day will be celebrated on May 9, the parade will be received on these stallions! So that everything goes according to tradition! Only Comrade Captain, - Nikolai Petrovich lowered his voice. - You can't tell anyone about it! You see what time it is at the moment! For these stallions, any collector will pay a million bucks, in spite of it! Therefore, we are taking them incognito! Think for yourself - well, why drag any ordinary mares from Siberia to Moscow for the sake of two? Would we get our car dirty because of this?

I don't know what the traffic cop thought about, he just gave all the documents and waved his hand - they say, move. Surely, I decided - why mess with the idiots?

Orange paradise

We drive further, and only to the next traffic police post we drive up - another traffic cop waving at us with a baton. We slow down, and he - right off the bat: "Are you the guys who are taking Budyonny's horse to the parade to Moscow?" While I was thinking about what to answer him, Kolka - well, Nikolai Petrovich in other words - asks him on a run-in: "And by what right do you use classified information?" The sergeant, apparently, did not expect such a thing, as he was frequenting somehow out of place: “No, well, the guys and I decided - maybe you need hay? We have a field nearby, so we have collected a little from the stack - for your horses! Would you like some hay? " Two more traffic cops run out of the bushes, drag such a decent armful in their hands - apparently, as much as they could from the haystack, they took out as much.

As soon as we reach the next post, the traffic cop is waving his baton again! “Drivers,” he yells. - We have stored apples here for your stallions! - and drags a whole box of apples! We waved the handle to the traffic cop - and then to Moscow! The sun is warming, the music is playing, the stallions and I are gnawing apples - beauty!

And the traffic police have their own communication! We drive up to the next traffic police post - they offer us apples again! But Nikolai Petrovich can’t look at them anymore - we knew how to do the half of the box! “No, it says, that's enough! In a different way, stallions will develop diathesis! " Here the 2nd traffic cop comes up and looks at the same pitifully: "Can I have bananas?" In general, we also stocked up with bananas. At the next post, the same story, only there the violator was carrying oranges. And, apparently, very much violated - we already put two boxes in the cockpit: one box for a stallion!

"Medicine" against rickets

In general, it's a beauty - we're going like in paradise: bananas, apples, oranges ... But here's a snake-nature: after all this joyful garden, I wanted meat! He told Kolyan about this - he whinnies: "Now we will arrange everything!"

We are already driving behind Chelyabinsk here and there, passing the Ural Mountains, where there is a traffic police post, and behind it there are trade counters. And it smells of different goodies! The traffic cops were apparently told about us, they saw the car, right off to us: "Show us, please, Zhukov's horse and Budyonny's stallion!" And Kolyan met them halfway: “Hello, comrades! Tell me - do you have fat? " - "What fat?" - "Yes, we had to give us fish oil with us: stallions need a liter a day, so that their rickets does not develop." - “We don’t have fish oil - sorry, we weren’t prepared! Maybe you can change what you can? ". Well, here Kolyan took a pensive pose, and began to reason: “Fish oil - it is difficult to change.

Only if the fat is some kind of low-cholesterol! In other words, the lard should be lean! As in a kebab, for example. I think that, as an exception, the stallions can now be given two shashliks together with 1 liter of fish oil! " The elder one poked right here: “Sidorov! Two stallions need four kebabs! And two more - for those who see them off! Come on, blow to the kebab maker Abai, tell him - kebabs for the post, for honored people! Let the excellent ones choose - and lard so that there is a little! " In general, we left with the meat!

The next day, we again drove like masters! Apples or hay - they wanted to shove a whole haystack into the back, barely fought back. They brought us the freshest sawdust. Well, and what violators do not carry: we have kiwi, and pineapples, and filled up with sugar, and at some post with the words: "This is for you to take care of the stallions!" a pair of jeans were thrown into the cockpit and T-shirts with the words "I hate cops!" - an unshaven face is drawn there.

"From the lads!"

The last adventure, already 100 km away from Moscow, happened: an SUV was catching up on the highway, and it began to blink its lanterns, like a garland on a Christmas tree, and pressed us to the side of the road. They slowed down. Three healthy rednecks emerge from the SUV: "Are you taking stallions for Budyonny and Marshal Zhukov to the Victory Parade?" Well, Kolyan so timidly says from the cockpit: "We!" - "Show me!" The men looked, clinked their tongues, treated them to sugar. “Keep,” they say, “from the lads! - and shove a cardboard bag into Kolya. - Say in the museum - so that everything is spent on stallions, to the last penny! Therefore, such beauty must be preserved! " I don’t remember how much money was there, but Kolyan says that we immediately paid for all our losses in Omsk.
And here the Moscow region has already begun. The gypsy warned us that he would meet two days before entering the Moscow Ring Road. We are approaching - it is standing. He looked into the back, into the cockpit - as if by chance. I don't know what I thought about, we have food there - enough for two squadrons: sugar, kiwi, bananas with oranges, even a bottle of whiskey - it's like Nikolai Petrovich at some traffic police post explained that hay without whiskey is not food for a stallion ... The stallions were taken out, the gypsy paid off with us ...

They remembered this trip for a long time - until the sugar ran out. And later I read that that Budyonny was not at that Victory Parade - there Rokossovsky and Zhukov commanded. But we will not tell anyone about this, let everyone think that the horse Mikhal Semyonich Budyonny lives here and there in the Museum of the Armed Forces in Moscow! And if it needs to be transported back to Siberia - we are always ready!

Misha Shcheglov, "Gruzovoz" magazine

https://vk.com/ivanov1963

ANDREY IVANOV (AVI)

"SIBERIAN RANGE" Story.

Dedicated to my deceased childhood friend ILYA SERGEEV.

I had a friend ten years ago. The name was Igor. Why "was", at the end of the story you yourself will understand.
We met him in the convoy of plant one. We drove together. He's there at KamAZ in the garage, and I'm in a smaller car.
Well, you know, the drivers have Friday - holy day. Relax your nerves, talk about everything. In short, one such driver's Friday and became friends.

We sat with the men after work, drank, grunted sausage with a green onion. As usual, no one listens to anyone, everyone is about his own, painful strives to insert. Shouting to each other, the usual Friday gatherings.
The people are solid, they understand that Friday is not eternal, followed by a hangover Saturday, and on Sunday you need to lie down dry. Therefore, everyone strives to completely break away on Friday after a week of work.

I also tried to screw something of my own into the general conversation, but there were drivers who were more loud and more experienced than me. I see it is useless, and I just sit and roll.
I look, I'm not the only one. There is also a short-spoken man. It turns out that he spoke little, not because he had nothing to say. He just stuttered heavily from a shell shock. But he drank and ate no less.

In the Army, he got into a hot spot and rescued a platoon of his soldiers from under fire, because he served as an ensign. There he had a concussion with a complication in speech. Then he was discharged from the army due to his incompetence and Igor went on to drive.

I quickly got tired of the drunken bazaars of my colleagues, I suggest Igor, they say, let's continue away from the crowd. And we were sitting in someone's personal garage, not far from the plant. And I wanted to go to nature, just out of need ...

We said goodbye to the team until Monday, took a little at a local store, and a snack, and what to drink it with. We went to the woods near the railway.
We sat down on a snag, and there Igorokha told me his story. About that hot spot, about stuttering, about our cherished dream, and in general we sat like that normally. I don’t remember how we got home.

In short, on Monday the doctor will go to the garage - and we are in perfect order. And no pressure and no smell.
Igor had a dream - to become a truck driver. In the country, as always, unemployment, cooperators, LLCs, CJSCs, factories either do not pay or go bankrupt, and all that kind of crap. You can only be a trucker by acquaintance, not otherwise ...

Soon Igor left the factory garage, where some salary delays began. Well, I dumped somewhere else from there. But they did not stop making friends. On Fridays we met on neutral territory, sat for a beer and did not disdain too much. He's unmarried, and that's what I am. The third guy almost immediately nailed to us. Also a chauffeur. Laughing, cheerful. But the eyes are sad. All thin, frail. Then I found out that he also served in the landing, like Igor.

In the summer we went out into the countryside to see Igor at his dacha. We were carrying bags of food and fuel. Igor is such a "bull" in appearance. The neck is short, waddling. He is very fond of eating. But I and Romka ate little. And they got drunk faster ...

The dacha is unfinished, but with a roof. There is a Russian stove, three beds, damp but clean linen in the closet, an old "MOSCOW" refrigerator, a round table. The air is piney, refreshing, but in winter you can't get there. The entire road is covered with snow from the train station itself. But in the summer we often gathered there, three inseparable companions-drivers and froze for a while.
Especially during the long holidays it was good there. Although the bathhouse there collapsed and it is far to go to the water pump for water. But this is tolerable, in general, trifles. The main thing is peace and quiet. In the evenings, they sang songs with a guitar, ate boiled potatoes with sprat in tomato sauce. Such a Russian paradise. True, without women. Decent madams are in short supply.
We used to go out on the porch in the evening - beauty ... You can even wear shorts ... If there are no neighbors ...

But that dream did not pass for Igor. I found some businessman with an old "wagon", like a twenty-ton KrAZ car with a booth. And he began to sort it out, to repair it for himself. And the merchant for this promised to send him on a long-range trip to Yakutia with the goods. And on the winter road and on the summer road.

Once Igor calls and says:
- Listen, I'll go to Mirny (Yakutia) in a week. There is no partner. How are you?
- Well, how? - I answer. - If you call, I'm with you.

By the way, I will add that at that time I was not living alone but with a lady. She may have loved me, I don't know. But economic, responsive, she liked me very much.
In short, we have lived for two years already.
Thinking how to tell her something?
- This flight is not for one day. I'll have to quit my job. And it is unlikely that this news will be greeted with joy.
And I so wanted to see the long-range, the romance of the chauffeur's, Siberia, the taiga and new people. Yes, and I did not go to truck so far. Igor promised half-and-half earnings.

In the evening, a lady came from work, I tell her directly, as it is ...
- Igor is going to carry the cargo to Yakutia, he calls me a partner. It's hard for him alone, six thousand kilometers and without protection. I'll make some money at the same time.

In short, the common-law wife is against, like:
- You go so far, there is no experience, there are robberies and cold on the roads. You will disappear there with this Igor. Always pulling you not towards the house. This is not even a job, but a stupid undertaking and empty.

But what can you do? I wanted to go on a flight and I can't refuse a friend. A week later I packed up and drove off.

I must say right away that KrAZ is a mining dump truck. Not at all adapted for long-haul flights. A refrigerator booth was simply welded to it. And stuffed with food to the eyeballs. The car is powerful, but not fast. The noise in the cab is worse than in the tractor. There is nowhere to sleep. Igor is on the seats, I'm on the floor. From the noise, my head is not my own. And we crawl with an overload. But we have no right not to deliver.
In the rain, and in the mud, on clay and sand, on rubble. We creak from region to region, but not whine.
Think -
- When Igor will let me steer. After all, for the second day we spar almost without stopping. We brew a little tea, we squelch tea in liters, we save money. The tape recorder is broken. There is no radio in the wilderness. Only the roar of the engine.
- Igor, you're tired, let me steer. - I suggest.
- No. It's too dangerous here, You have no such experience. The overload is large. The roads are crooked, slippery, we can easily roll over. You will go back.

And the truth is, I look, on the sides of the road the "wagon" is lying upside down, then the side truck has been knocked down ... Okay, let's go, I'm silent ...

We got to the ferry in Ust-Kut, to sail along the Lena for several days. The rain is pouring down. But the cockpit is nice, warm and quiet. Drops on the roof knock knock. The wind near the river pier carries debris. Various muck flies. Torn, wet cellophane bags, empty cigarette packs, scraps of newspapers, toilet paper, cans of beer cans play football with themselves. Beauty and surrealism in the spirit of the Strugatskys.
We stand, waiting for the weather and the queue for the ferry. We are good. Then we will be taken along the river.
We stocked up with vodka, we walk and sleep ... Now we can. Recreation...
Finally we got on the ferry. Fun, there are a lot of cars. The drivers are all different, from all over the country ... Music is screaming from the cars, someone is watching a movie from the video. And the beauties of the Siberian river are indescribable when they sailed ... I listened to the tales of experienced truckers there ... At least write a novel ...

We rafted along the Lena, probably for five days. These places are beautiful in calm and thunderstorms.

I cannot describe nature. It is necessary to see it. Now sheer cliffs, now hills, now dangerous, stormy rifts, now secret, hidden shoals. The cubs on the shore played once, I saw it myself.
... By the way, in those places a wonderful Soviet film "UGRYUM-RIVER" was filmed, Sinilga was there - even on the shore there is a monument to her. In general, the places are strange, reserved, uncrowded, wild.

The ferry is also interesting.
There are many Yakuts, both scientists and quite dense people. The drivers all got to know each other, became friends. One my friend walks like a gloomy cloud. Is silent or snarls ...

I always go to the shore when we dock in local villages, I watch people, animals, houses, households. So everything is unusual, peculiar. For example, I have never seen in our villages so many purebred huskies, large, fluffy, probably sled.
I also noticed that all the villagers were preparing for the approach of the ferry as if it were a holiday. It is important that the local nationalities wore beads, and the men were wearing shiny boots ...
Igor mostly did not go to the piers. Usually slept in the cockpit.
True, then one kind driver sheltered me for the time of the rafting, he was driving alone and he had two sleeping bags in SUPERMAZ.

Another attraction. There is an island in the middle of the Lena River. A small island, with sandy shoals, quiet backwaters, without rocks, overgrown with sparse vegetation, with the exception of a few tall ship pines.
So that's it. The locals told that on that small island an old forest man had made a nest for himself. Grandfather Fyodor, I think. And, if the weather is good, that ancient hermit can go to the coast of the island and wave to passing ships or ferries.

Experienced truckers also said that in the spring there was a terrible incident on the ferry. With a drink or lack of sleep, the driver got behind the wheel of a heavy loaded "truck". He started the car and drove to the railing. He jumped over the fence rail and dumped into Lena. And so he went to the bottom. Then, of course, they dragged the drowned man out to send home and bury him. Lena doesn't like jokes.

Here's a little help from Wikipedia:
"Le; na (Yakut.; L ;; ne, bur. Z; lkhe) - a river in Russia. Lena is the largest Siberian river. By world standards, it is the tenth longest river in the world. River length, from source to mouth, 4 400 km It flows into the Laptev Sea of ​​the Arctic Ocean.
Lena is the largest of the Russian rivers, whose basin lies entirely within Russia. It is also the largest river in the world, completely flowing in the permafrost region. "

As a result, we moored to the destination berth. I don't remember the name. Either Yakutsk, or Lensk, or some other pier there. We got off the ferry. And then the fun began ...

The entire route from the pier to Mirny is broken up by heavy trucks, fuel tankers, "wagons" and tractors. Roll over "nefig" to do. And we have an overload of several tons of fucking sausage and the rest of the perishable junk.
Several times I had to get out of the KrAZ cab and watch Igor cautiously "crawl" along the slope in his car. Track every meter of movement.

Then we were even afraid to speak. Only by gestures they made each other understand where to turn or stop altogether.

As a result, we delivered those cheeses and sausages to the land of diamond miners, the city of Mirny. Unloaded in warehouses. Sleep off the kid. And we must go back to our homelands, look for the load. And what from there, from Yakutia to lead that? Not fox furs with red caviar and not diamond ore in the grocery booth. Somehow they found some scrap metal, six tons. If only empty such a tractor is not driven back.

My friend Igorokha received all the money in both directions from a businessman who flew in by plane. And gives me:
“Andryukha, you didn’t drive, you didn’t drive, and I’ll drive her back empty and I’ll quickly drive her back myself.” He doesn’t hint, but directly says that we will not divide the money for the flight. Like I just traveled with pleasure on KrAZ.
Then it immediately became clear to me why he was so gloomy and gloomy on the ferry. Reluctance to share, why does he need an extra passenger now.

I didn’t answer. I just took my thermos with tea and went to the fellow traveler who sheltered me on the rafting .. He is from Abakan, as much as he can. And from Krasnoyarsk I will somehow get there by hitchhiking. There are still many good people in Russia, especially among ordinary hard workers.

But I would not be able to ride next to a redneck for a week.

So our friendship with Igohokha ended. I never met him again. And I don’t want to ...
Yes, let him meet smaller ones on his roads than he himself. Good luck to him and an easy Path!

I didn't earn money, but I've seen so much living beauty, different people, nature. And few, probably, who personally stood on the edge of the huge diamond kimberlite pipe "MIR". This is where the breath of fear and delight captures. And I stood there !!!

AVI 2016 https://vk.com/ivanov1963

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