ITHE DRIVE UP TO 'CAGGA was almost as bad as working down from upstate to N'Yack. Only you got to see more farms and less plantations.
I’d driven them both and didn’t much like one or the other. But I somehow survived both trips, more than once, and so I kept getting hired to make them. Sure, they paid more, but that was the deal. You had to have a human driver to get across their borders and through their security. And you had to be a mean SOB to get out in one piece.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that my rig was built from a pair of surplus MRAPs. Built to survive even IED’s that these polite, “Tolerant” urbanites left around as their form of “free speech” to make their “statement” on the underside of one of the trucks that was bringing them their food and other vital supplies.
Food wasn’
