Episode I

Hi everybody. Just thought I would let you know that I’m on the road again. Yes sirree, I turned up to work this morning, wearing shirt and tie - and the boss said - “Excuse me, The Kruse.” And I said, “Suredy, partner”. Then my boss said - “Well, The Kruse - it’s like this: the Diary Board has a shipment which is urgently required in Auckland.”
I said: “Okalidokily, boss-guy. You gonna stick that son-bitch on a plane?” My boss shook his head, with a worried look on his face. “No, The Kruse - this shipment is too important to trust to some hot-shot flyboy. We need it trucked up - and fast!”
I started to feel sick - I knew what was coming.
“We need YOU to drive that shipment up.”
I sat down in my little red office chair, with silver diamonds decorating it. “No way, Bossman. You know I don’t drive no more. Not since……. the incident” I replied. It was all flooding back now - and the guilt which I had managed to dwindle down to a small shooting pain in my head was now rushing over me in nauseating waves.
My boss grabbed my shoulders, squeezing until it hurt. “Damn it, Kruse - we need you. You are the only one who can do this. For Christ’s sake, man - it wasn’t your fault. It was night-time. It was raining. 3 metres visibility. Nobody could have seen that hitcher.”
It was clear in my mind now - the hitchhiker - with a large blue MacPac on his back. I hadn’t seen seen him until it was too late. Much too late. As my truck had hurtled down the road at over 100km/hr, without even slowing down.
My boss shook me back to the present. “Kruse - we NEED you. COme on - I’m sure that hitcher got another ride. It ws State Highway 1 for god’s sake. Please - for the Team.”
My boss had pulled out his trump card. I knew now I had to do it. For the Team. After the great times I had spent with them, on team-building exercises - how could I let the Team down?
I couldn’t.
“Right - I’ll do it.” I said, already imagining my left hand gripping the stick shift, while my right is draped casually over the steering wheel. I couldn’t deny it - the tarseal is in my blood.

Episode 2

As The Kruse picked up his brown Speights-man style jacket, and headed towards the elevator, it was obvious from His rolling gait, and new confidence apparent in His upright stance that the essence of the road had already reinstated itself within His very being, much like Windows 98 being installed on a brand new Pentium III Personal Computer. I could feel this happening, much like a hard drive can feel the .dll files being written. I drawled a question over my shoulder to the Boss. “Whatcha got for me to carry, big boss-dude?”
I couldn’t see the expression on his face as he answered “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Well, I think I will let that be a little suprise. Aye, The Kruse?”
I nearly stopped then, to press for an answer. The thinly veiled mischief in his voice had stirred up an uneasy feeling within my gut. The Kruse was being controlled by the smell of tarseal by that stage though, and there was to be no turning back.

As I entered the elevator and pressed the button for The Kruse to arrive on the 4th Floor - Transport & Logistics; I heard the boss mutter under a chuckle, “Or perhaps not such a ‘little’ suprise.”

I didn’t have much time to consider what I had let The Kruse into, as the lightning quick elevator took only twelve seconds to reach the 4th floor of Pastoral House. Leaving the lift, I entered unfamiliar territory. I had never seen the home floor of the NZDB transport & Logistics Division before. The Kruse had been so shaken after ‘the accident’ that He hadn’t even been able to look at a big rig. Now, as I strode into the huge loading bay of Pastoral House, the truck-driving, rubber-burning, tarseal-pounding side of The Kruse was struggling to hold control, as the fearful, emotional-wreck, guilt-ridden side of The Kruse rose up within my mind. In front of me was a long line of Macks & Kenworths, neatly parked beside each other.

I turned away from the magnificent sight, and walked quickly towards the desk of the Transport Manager. The Kruse was ready to pick up His load, and hit the road again….

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR ‘Hot Rubber On Wet Tarseal’ :

“For the love of God…Episode three….where is episode three!!!” - Setal Patel
“The Kruse, You are the greatest man alive.” - Hayden Corbett

Episode 3

The Kruse sauntered towards the desk of the Transport Manager. I spat out of the corner of my mouth, while giving the Transport Manager an insolent look that said “Wotcha gonna do about it, Suit-Boy?”
The Transport Manager stammered “T-T-The Kruse! I’ve been expecting you. This is a great honour, sir.”
I looked at him with disgust. If there is one thing that The Kruse doesn’t like, it’s yellow-bellied weasels wearing suits, ordering good honest truck-driving boys around - sending them out onto the dangerous road of NZ, without even a thought. “Wotcha got for me to carry, Mr Transport Manager?” His title was spat out of my mouth, a sarcastic volley of words.
“It is already loaded up. We arranged for a special truck for you, and loaded the cargo early this morning. Would you like to see?”
I was angry now. They had arranged for all this to be set up, before I had even agreed to do the job. My boss had some explaining to do when I got back. “Yeah - Okay. I’ll take a look - see how much of a mess you’ve made.” I was certain that they couldn’t have arranged for a halfway decent truck for me to drive, and was starting to regret my decision to go along with this whole idea.

The slimy little manager, with his white short-sleeved shirt, and maroon tie decorated with smily faces, started towards a darkened corner of the huge loading bay. As he walked, he threw a wary smile at The Kruse over his shoulder, and raised an arm to somebody out of sight. Seconds later, the corner was flooded with artificial light, revealing my rig.

I stopped walking. I was speechless. It appeared that the Transport Manager COULD do something right after all. In front of me stood a proud and magnificent sight. Damn near a perfect replica of my old rig, which I had sold after the accident, it stirred up powerful feelings within me. The Kruse resumed his journey towards where the big vehicle stood. Reluctantly, I mumbled “It needs a paint job.” to the Transport Manager, who was now grinning. I walked a full circuit around my new wheels, kicking the tyres, running my hand over the shiny white paintwork of the tractor unit. This would do, yes - this would definitely do.

The Transport Manager waited for me at the rear of the trailer. As I approached him, I noticed the apprehension enter his face again. He asked The Kruse “Would you like to look at your cargo?”
“Yeah, I guess I’d better do that, aye?” I replied, noticing his face show increasing fear. I knew now that there was something not quite right about my cargo. My boss was going to have a LOT of explaining to do. As I approached the door to the trailer, there was a loud bang, and the trailer jolted. “What the….?” The Kruse, startled, threw both swinging doors open, to reveal what had made that noise. I turned on the Transport Manager, who was already walking backwards, and looked as if he was about to turn and run. “You got me carting a friggin cow??!!!” I yelled at him. This agitated the huge creature, and the trailer started to rock as the unbelievably sized bovine cargo became restless.
“Shush, shush - you’re upsetting her!” the little smily-faced weasel said, still backing away from me. I shut the trailer doors, and advanced on him. “What the hell IS that, and why am I trucking it to Auckland?”
He stammered out an answer “Well, firstly it isn’t a cow, it is a calf.”
“Bullshit!!!!!” I yelled back at him, “That thing must be goddamn 8 feet tall!! You telling me it’s a calf”
“Um, yes… It is a special project. It, I mean ’she’, has been developed by ViaLactia Biosciences for the Dairy Board.” The scared little man continued: “She is the end-product of project P1603.4 - but some of the lads here call her ‘Daisy’.”
My mind was reeling. A giant cow, wait - calf? Daisy? Bioscience? Strewth - it was like I’d woken up in The Twilight Zone. I tried to get my head together. As I opened my eyes, I saw my logistics guide heading towards his office, carefully avoiding making any noise. I yelled, running towards him. His wide eyes saw me start towards him, and he jumped the remaining distance, slipping through the door, and slamming it shut half a second before my shoulder slammed into it. His voice came through the door “Sorry The Kruse, but Daisy is all yours now. They need her up in Auckland before midnight. Good luck.”
Enraged, The Kruse hit the door with a whirlwind of fists and boots. Finally, I realised the futility of it. “You little sneak! When I get back, I’m gonna make damn sure you pay for this. My Boss has got something coming too.” I stormed towards the white truck, and its strange contents.
“The Kruse!”
I paused to hear more bad news.
“I thought you’d better know. Boss Hog has somehow found out about this job. Good luck - I mean that.”
The Kruse sighed, and continued towards the truck. It was inevitable, really. Everytime I drove somewhere that Boss Hog tried to catch me. He was like a pitbull. That settled one thing, though. If I was going to have that fat little lawman hound-dog chasing me, I might as well be a fox with style.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into the yard of my good friend Billy, the big powerful airhorns throwing out deep bursts of sound from under the hood of my Mack. “Hey, Billy - the usual, thanks!” The Kruse yelled, relishing the shocked look on His old friends face.
“Shit, The Kruse! Where did you get this beauty from?”
“It’s a long story, mate..”
Billy interrupted, “Well, I’ll get my gear, and you tell me about it while I work.”

Twenty minutes later, Billy was well into the task of repainting the big truck-trailer unit, listening in disbelief to the tale of how The Kruse had been tricked into this crazy job. Once the trucks makeover was finished, however, the real story would begin….

Episode 4

The Kruse looked at the dashboard clock. 11:53. I was hoping that another old friend was in a better state than the last time I had seen him. The Kruse reached towards the CB with his left hand, “Farmgirl, this is The Kruse, needing a hand from headless highwayman.”
Almost immediately, the CB hissed back a reply, in a cheerful, husky female voice. “Good to hear from ya, The Kruse - heard you’d gone offroad. Good to have you back. I think you’ll find that the highwayman is legless, though - not headless.”
I shook my head. I was going to have to deal with the present trouble by myself, but I knew damn well that I would need help if I was to get all the way to Auckland. “Okay girl - I’ll be dropping in soon. Make sure that old dog doesn’t drink anything until I get there - I got a bunch of people who aren’t so glad to see me back on the road.”
The cheerful tone emitting from the CB turned worried. “You need some help, cowboy?”
The Kruse gave a big grin, and replied “Don’t you worry about me, girl.. Just make sure that the Bandit is in shape for when I get there in half an hour or so. I’m gonna have some fun.” The Kruse tapped a Marlboro into his mouth from one of the half-dozen packets littered around the cab.
“Right-o The Kruse, over-and-out.” spat the CB, with barely contained laughter obvious behind the words.
The Kruse glanced in his rear vision mirror, as his left hand deftly turned up the volume on his stereo - filling the cab with the sounds of Steve Earl. “Okay The Kruse, let’s see if you still got it.” I said to myself.

Inside the car which had pulled up beside the rear wheels of The Kruses truck sat two very different men. The driver was a rather lanky fellow, with a vacant, worried look on his face. The only similarity with the man sitting in the passenger seat was the uniform. Both men were wearing police uniforms. The second man in the car was staring at the truck cab in which The Kruse sat. He was leaning forward in his intensity, placing more pressure on his already strained officers uniform. This man had a wide grin on his fat face, with a thick cigar in the corner of his mouth. The ash from his cigar had fallen onto his ample belly, unnoticed by either man. “Gosh-damn, I’m gonna get that son-bitch this time - and you ain’t gonna stuff it up for me, boy. You hear me?”, the large police officer said, not taking his eyes off the newly painted truck for a moment.
“Sure Dad,” the driver of the car replied, “but what’s he done wrong?”
“Shut up, Junior!”, Boss Hogg replied. “He’s done plenty wrong. Look - he’s speeding right now - pull him over.”
“He’s only going…”
“Shut up boy!!!!” Boss Hogg yelled, with a whack over the head as punctuation. “Turn on those damn lights. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
As Junior Hogg turned on the flashing lights atop the police car, Boss picked up the CB hand unit. “The Kruse - pull over. You hear me, Kruse?”

I flicked the last third of the Marlboro out the side window, as I picked up the CB. “Hi ol’ buddy. Long time, no see.” I could almost see Boss Hogg spluttering at the cheerful reply.
“Now you look hear, I am an officer of the law, and I command you to pull over.”
The Kruse’s grin grew bigger. “What do you think of my new wheels, Officer?”
This time the spluttering was audible over the radio, as Boss Hogg held down the transmit key before he formed a response. “I don’t care what your truck looks like, pull over!”
Junior Hogg’s voice came from the background - “I think it looks real nice.”
I threw in a parting comment “Best you keep your eyes on the road, though - eh Junior?”

In the police car, Hogg suddenly looket at the road ahead, and yelled “Juniooooorrrrrr!!!!!!!”, moments before the car hit the roadworks, and flew into the air. Both men stared ahead as their car spiralled through the air, before landing upside down on top of a stock truck. They sat, strapped into their seats, in shocked silence, until a creaking sound came from the roof of the stock truck, and a portion of the roof collapsed. The bonnet and trunk of the previously immaculate police car stopped the car from falling too far, and left the two policemen’s upside down faces hanging at eyelevel with the dozen or so occupants of the truck. The cows overcame their suprise more quickly than the humans, and began to investigate their newfound friends with their wet noses, and rough tongues. Boss Hogg struggled to form words, as he tried to shoo the cows away, finally giving up, and fuming, while his son looked at him sheepishly. Junior made the comment “Hey Dad, that one looks just like my old pet calf - Betty-Boo.”

The Kruse grinned, and lit another Marlboro as he kept on truckin’ ahead, to meet his old time pal - the Bandit.

MORE CRITICS RAVE ABOUT ‘Hot Rubber On Wet Tarseal’

“This is … a good story. … the adventures of … ‘the Kruse’, … is … a … dream of a … tale of a man… ‘the Kruse’ … is cool and calm, feared and respected, … i wish i could be like this guy, but in reality, i am a gutless whining little man and whenever a female talks to me my knees shake, i cant talk properly and i have to rush home and masturbate furiously for several days. … enjoy little in-jokes …, largely at the expense of people, … actually … expect … to find it funny. Were this story made into a film, it would be …(a cult classic).” - Benjamin Osborne

” i was awaiting each episode with baited breath” - Hayden Corbett

“…your aforementioned story … is quite cool due to the wet and the rubber is hot.” - David Irwin

“Can you please keep sending it to me?” - Setal Patel

“HEAR HEAR OLD CHAP” - Nic Whitson

“The Kruse is an icon of our times. “ - Darren Karauria

Episode 5

The Kruse was filled with pride. His good ol’ friend, the Bandit, was damn near right. It had taken a full hour of slapping, cold showers (fully clothed, strictly heterosexual), and pouring whiskey down the drain; but it was worth it. When The Kruse and Daisy had first entered the Otaki motel room, it had taken them half a minute just to spot the prone figure on the floor. The room was dark, and full of smoke. The floor had been covered with a range of bottles - empty liquor bottles, half full beer bottles, and shards of glass from unidentified broken bottles. There were over half a dozen ashtrays scattered around the room - some filled to the brim with cigarette stubs, while others had obviously been just as full before they had been upended. The resulting sight and smell was sickening. I had picked my old friend up, and dragged him to the shower, while Daisy started pushing the collection of bottles, cigarette packets, ashtrays and jaz-mags into one corner. The Bandit had started to struggle as I turned on the cold water, mumbling something about “Oh shit - not again… I;m not a friggin toilet, you filthy son-uva……” He had fallen unconscious again, and I had begun to think there was no hope. Daisy had come back in then, carrying a small dark bottle. She motioned to me that I should hold his mouth open, which I did, looking at the bottle with suspicion. Five seconds later, my old buddy was coughing, spluttering, and swinging his arms wildly. “What the hell did you give him?”
Daisy gave a sweet smile as she shook her head and said “You don’t want to know.”
The next hour was spent convincing the Bandit that he didn’t ‘need a shot to wake up properly’, and that water really was good for him. Finally, however, he could sit up straight without any support, and could even stand, with a little help. The Kruse now started to fill the Bandit in on why He had interrupted his old pals year long bender. It took some convincing, but he Bandit finally agreed to help out The Kruse, after a short attempt at fisticuffs, and several efforts to get to bottles of liquor that had been hidden in the darnedest of places. Finally, when I helped him to walk outside, the Bandit was resigned to his fate. There was no way he could deny that his blood was racing with exhiliration, however, when he saw what I had brought with me. There, parked beside my truck, was a beautiful piece of American machinery. The Kruse didn’t even have to help him, as he walked to the car, and once around it, tracing his fingers over every curve. “Right-o then, let’s get this show on the road.” he said, jumping over into the sleek ‘Vette. “I really miss my friend Boss Hogg - I think I should go re-introduce myself.”
I grinned as I gave Daisy a friendly goodbye squeeze on the butt, and wlaked towards my rig. “Don’t worry, partner - I think we’ll be seeing him soon enough.”

Boss Hogg didn’t stand a chance of preventing me from getting my cud-chewing cargo to Auckland on time now. The Kruse and the Bandit - together again. The trip was sure gonna be fun now………..