"I been thinking we should move to Alaska, can you imagine the size of the road kill up there?" Ram said to his shoveling partner Wes as they tried to scrap what remained of a small deer off the middle of I74.

"Too cold and anything up there would probably not go unnoticed when it was hit, in fact I would wager it would probably do more damage to the car or truck," Wes responded as he reached over to pick up a loose hoof.

"Ya, that makes sense," Ram said as he threw the remaining pieces into a bucket and slowed walked around the back of the truck and hopped into the bed. He gave the driver a slow nod and they continued down the highway.

Ram had been doing this glorious job for about 5 years now, it was recession proof and he didn't have to think too much. Plus he was pretty much born for it, as in he had a rare condition where he couldn't smell a thing. Wes was new, only on the job for about 3 months. He was a real quiet at first, alway showed up earlier and ready to go as they drove up and down the state highways looking for roadkill or other hazards in the road way. Ram was glad Wes had finally opened up, it made him seem more human. At first he was worried he was on the run from something. I mean who signs up to be the guys who pick up roadkill.

No Wes was not running from anything, as far as Ram knew, he was just looking for some peace and according to him an honest days work. Ram thought there were other ways that didn't involved sitting in the back of a truck next to dead animal parts to do an honest days work. But who was he to judge how one man spent his time.

Wes looked out over the rolling hills as the warning arrow overhead signaled to traffic to get over. He rubbed his the palm of his hand which was finally starting to form a nice callus. He had started the job with perfect city boy hands as Ram called him and now he didn't have a working man's set of mitts yet, but he was getting closer. It's not every day you see a multi-billionaire sitting in the back of a pick up truck doing manual labor.

Then again, it's not like he was ever recognized, he was just another faceless entry on the Forbes 400. During the pandemic of 2020, his company or his whole social culture had prayed and exploited the less fortunate. He knew it at the time and knew it to this day. He still hadn't really decided how to reconcile his feelings about any of it. He just knew he had to get out. So he did, sold everything and moved to a small town and started this simple life. A million things always raced through his head everyday in the back of that truck.

If you are so un happy with what you did, you should just give it all away. But he couldn't bring himself to action yet, sure he had donated about fifty percent of all his assets, but a desire to be self reliant and just a selfish consumer-ish desire prevented him from giving it all away.

The truck slowed, Ram leaned his head over and then turned to Wes and said, "No shovels, but it looks heavy."

"Great, maybe I won't hit the gym after work," Wes replied.

"Gym?" Ram said as they hopped out and walked around to see a large refrigerator in the middle of the fast lane.

"How did they not realized this fell out?" Wes said as they walked to either end of it and started to roll into the median, "The gym thing was a joke."

"Ya, I figured, but you don't joke,"  Ram said as fridge crashed over and started to roll down the hill, "That's not good."

"Do we have to deal with that?" Wes said it came to a rest in the middle of the median, "I joke, I  guess I think do."

"Nah, it wouldn't have fit in our truck anyways, I am sure they would have preferred we left it somewhere easier to access, but shit happens," Ram said as they walked back to the truck, "and if you're not thinking your not sure, your joking, then your not."

Wes realized that it had been quite some time since he actually tried to be funny or tell a joke. Maybe it was his sub-conscience way of punishing himself. You have to be a somber man.

As they sun started to set and they neared the end of their shift Ram went through his usually Friday routine of causally asking Wes out for a beer at one of the four bars in town. Wes would make up some flimsy excuse and go home to his house make some dinner have a glass of wine and watch TV before falling asleep on the couch.

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