Life's a Chance Encounter

by Specs4ever

I paid for my purchases and was walking towards the front door of the truck stop convenience store. As I looked out the window, I noticed a car pull up, and a woman get out of the passenger side. In the light of the overhead florescent, I thought I spotted a pair of glasses on her face, so I slowed my pace, hoping that I would meet her at the door. But she remained outside with the car door open, still talking to the driver. So, I decided that I could wait no longer, and I stepped up my pace. As I opened the door, and walked out into the chill of the early fall night air, she finally slammed the car door, and turned my way. Yes, she definitely wore glasses. The frame style was a good 10 to 12 years old - from the late 1980’s. And, it was obvious that she had a strong minus prescription. The lenses, in the oversized blue frame, were a bit under an inch thick and had a significant degree of reflection. They seemed to have a plano front, so I knew that the prescription was likely to be pretty high, around -13D or -14D, as beyond this point, in a frame of this size, the lenses have to become either biconcave, or myodiscs. The edges of the lenses had been polished, to minimize the effect of the thickness, but as any optic observer knows, this only enhances the inner reflections. She was pretty, in a cheap way, as her long hair was obviously dyed blond, she wore an excess of makeup, and her clothes were a little punky.

She approached me, pulling a cigarette from her pack, as she walked the few feet.

“Got a light buddy?” she asked.

“Don’t smoke anymore,” I replied.

“Do you wanna party?” was her next question.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I retorted.

She appeared to be drunk, or maybe stoned on drugs, or possibly both, and I didn’t want any part of that scene. So, still thinking about the glasses, I wandered over to my truck.

Where I had parked, I had a very good view of the front row of trucks, all sitting there with their engines spewing diesel fumes into the night air. I get upset with this. Fuel is a non-renewable resource, and to run a truck engine on a night that is just chilly is a waste of fuel, not to mention the pollution of the air that it was causing. I sat there, doing my paperwork, and I spotted my blond with glasses walking from truck to truck. After a few minutes, I noticed what she was doing. She would get down from the one truck, put her glasses back on, and walk over towards the next truck. Obviously, she was trying to see where she had to walk before she got too close to the truck, because she would then take her glasses off, and holding them in her hand, she would walk up to the truck, grab the handle, and step up on the step. The window would roll down, and after a few minutes, she would get down, put her glasses back on, and repeat the performance. I watched her go down the entire line of trucks, calling on the driver that was sitting in his cab. I laughed at this show of vanity, and I wondered, since she probably couldn’t see, how many female driver’s she had approached, as the world of truck driving, while still male dominated, has attracted a large number of lady drivers.

I watched her as she walked over to my truck, and I saw her take her glasses off, and walk the last few feet. I knew that she must be absolutely blind, especially at night. But she stood up on the side steps, and I rolled down my window.

“Mister, please, are you heading west?” she asked.

I thought quickly. I was heading west, first to Los Angeles, where I had to deliver, then back to Las Vegas, where I was living at the time. Did I want to trouble myself with this woman? So, I told her the truth. I told her I was going west, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted the company of a prostitute. With this she started to cry. I told her to put her glasses back on, and I would take her back into the restaurant for some conversation, some food, and a cup of coffee.

As we sat in the restaurant, she denied being a prostitute, and told me that she was only doing this to try to get a ride out west. Sure, and the Pope is my father, I thought. She really looked like a floozy, with her over dyed hair and too much makeup. But as we talked more, I was able to drag a bit more of her story out of her. The reason her hair was dyed was that her husband wanted her as a blond, and she had dyed her hair that color since she had been married 13 years ago. His idea of a good-looking woman was one that had large breasts, was blond, and wore lots of makeup. So, that is why she looked like she did.

Ok, I suppose I could give her the benefit of the doubt. And she did wear nice thick-lensed glasses. I suppose, I could have resisted anyone else, but I finally agreed to take her to Los Angeles, if she wouldn’t smoke in my truck. She agreed, so we started off.

I drove late into the night, and when I was tired, I pulled into a little truck stop off the beaten path that I knew would have a few parking spots. She was asleep in the lower bunk, so I pulled down the upper bed, rolled out my bedroll, and went to sleep.

Sunlight was streaming into the sleeper berth when I woke. I glanced at the lower berth, but my passenger still had not stirred. So, I woke her up, and we got dressed, and went in for some food. My passenger, who introduced herself as Connie, didn’t eat much, and was very fidgety, and I began to wonder if she was on any drugs. I was soon to find out. I asked her if she wanted a smoke before we got back on the road, and it surprised me when she said that she thought maybe she would wait until our next stop.

We hadn’t been on the road for much more than a couple of hours, when Connie asked me to pull over. I suggested a rest area ahead, but the urgency of the situation was such that she meant right now. I waited in the cab until she came back in. The next two days were terrible for her and for me. She was constantly vomiting - even when there was nothing in her stomach - she was having dry heaves. And, she was pale white. This was one sick lady. But, I wasn’t too worried. I had seen a couple of other people come down off of hard drugs, and I knew the symptoms. All through this time she didn’t eat, or even smoke.

By the third day, she was weak, but I could tell the worst was over. We were approaching the California state line on I-40, and would be in L.A. in plenty of time to deliver on schedule the next morning. Connie got up out of the bed, and came to sit in the passenger seat. I hadn’t had much conversation with her, as it is hard to carry on a conversation while someone is being sick, so we began to talk. I wanted to bring the conversation around to her vision, and her glasses, but I didn’t want to scare her off. Fortunately an opening came, when she looked right at a road sign, and then asked me what the sign said.

“Couldn’t you read that?” I asked in a surprised tone.

She then told me that the glasses that she was wearing were over 13 years old. Her husband had hated her wearing glasses, so she had never bothered getting the prescription updated. She had finally gone for long delayed eye examination just last week. She was told that she needed a stronger prescription but her eye doctor had refused to give her a new prescription for contacts as she had a number of corneal abrasions, as well as some blood vessels in her eye that were close to hemorrhaging. So, her contact lens wearing days were over. When she had gone home to tell her husband that she would have to wear glasses from now on, his reaction had been that she might as well get out, as he didn’t want her around, wearing her coke bottles. And, it hadn’t been a good marriage anyway. Her husband had wasted a lot of money on drugs, and booze, and she had willingly followed along. So, she had called a girlfriend, who had dropped her off at the truck stop where I met her.

I am always very hesitant about admitting my attraction to girls wearing glasses to anyone, and it was no different this time. So, all I told Connie was that I thought her husband was a fool and a jerk, and that I thought she was pretty with or without her glasses.

This seemed to perk her up, and she was in a pretty good mood for the rest of the five-hour trip into L.A. My unloading appointment wasn’t until the next morning, but I went to this company all the time, and I knew they would let me leave my trailer in their yard. We did this, and then went to a nearby motel.

During my searches for an optometrist that would help me with my glasses over contacts wearing, I had met an optometrist in L.A. that would not do any prescribing, but who would check me with my different combinations, and tell me if I needed a bit more power in my glasses - in other words, he helped me fine-tune my GOC combinations. His office was in a nearby mall, so I called him, and set up an appointment for Connie later on in the day. We showered and ate, and then went to the mall, where the first thing we did was to go to a hairdresser, who cut Connie’s damaged hair fairly short, and dyed it back to her natural brunette color. Then we went off to the eye doctor.

My optometrist friend did a thorough examination of Connie’s eyes, and confirmed what her own doctor had told her about her corneas and her blood vessels. He gave her a prescription for new glasses, and we shopped for a pair of frames. I liked a couple of the same frames that Connie did, so we were about to order them, when she told me that she should wait, and get them in Las Vegas. Wait a second here. She knew I was going to Las Vegas, but I hadn’t invited her along. Sure, I wouldn’t mind her company, and I was excited about seeing her in her new glasses with their increased prescription, as she had gone from around -13.50D up to OD -16.25 x -0.75 x 180, and OS -15.75 x -1.00 x 165 over the past 13 years. No wonder she hadn’t been able to read the road signs.

“I’m pleased that you are thinking of coming to Las Vegas with me, but I don’t remember inviting you,” I spoke.

“That’s where I intended to go all along. Then after six weeks, I will divorce that drunken druggie I was married to,” She replied.

That was fine with me. I wouldn’t have minded her staying with me, but for some strange male thing, I wanted to be the one to ask. So, I did. She looked at me with a bit of a quizzical look in her eyes, but she accepted. We then decided that the best bet would be to order her new glasses in Vegas. So, I got on the phone, and called an optician friend of mine that I used in Vegas. I gave him the frame names, and sizes, and all the necessary information, so that he could get the order placed right away. This guy knows about my hobby, and when Connie was out of earshot for a couple of minutes, I told him to put a rush on a pair of CR39 lenses that we could get made into glasses almost as soon as we got back to Vegas, as the two pair we had ordered were both high index, with coatings, and they would take a couple of weeks to come in.

Connie and I went back to the motel, and watched some television before falling asleep. I wanted to make a move on her in the worst way, but I also didn’t want to frighten her and drive her away, and I knew now that my original thought about her being a prostitute was way off base. She was 20 years younger than I am, but this wasn’t a big thing with me. I just knew that I found her very attractive - with or without glasses. And, I had decided after my ex-wife and I split a few years back that my next wife or girlfriend would be severely myopic, but with my lifestyle I hadn’t yet been able to find anyone.

The next morning we got up, and went to unload my trailer. Then I loaded a partial for a show in Vegas, and we headed to the Las Vegas Convention Center. After I unloaded it, we parked the truck, and headed for my apartment. I only have a one bedroom - with a king sized bed, but it is still only one bed. I still wasn’t sure of Connie’s feelings for me, but my mind was put to rest after we got to the apartment. I really wasn’t very hard to seduce. So, we were going to have no problem at all sharing that one bed.

I always do my paperwork as soon as my trip ends, so the next morning found me at my computer. Just before lunch my phone rang. It was my optician friend. The regular plastic lenses, I had put a rush on had arrived, even sooner than we had anticipated. So, I explained to Connie what I had done, and we went to the optical shop. I wanted the lenses put into Connie’s existing frames. But, I was outvoted. My friend, and Connie both ganged up on me. And, they were right. A 56 x 20 frame is way too big for her lenses. So, she ended up with a more modern, smaller frame, and I had to be satisfied with the rolled and polished edges that were only a bit more than ˝ inch thick. But, the lenses were biconcave, and they did look quite strong, although very nice, on her face.

So, finally she was able to see her surroundings clearly, and she gave me a very cute smile when she looked at me, and then a sweet kiss. Connie and I went for a tour of Vegas. She wasn’t much of a gambler, but was able to win a bit of money from the slots. We went to change her driver’s license over to Nevada, to allow her to begin her residence for her divorce, and she passed the eye exam with no problems, so she was now able to drive. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her. To me she looked absolutely beautiful, with her new glasses, and her well styled, short brown hair.

A person just never knows what life will bring from a chance encounter.

Specs4ever, with thanks to A. J. for her editing assistance. March 2001.

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