Story Time

I drive furniture for a living. At the motor depot, our delivery firm hires a parking spot for its vehicles. An ancient, still-Soviet vehicle depot, but without the overgrown weeds and piles of abandoned machinery that would normally be there, everything is in perfect order: the area is kept up, the repair area is spotless, and the cars are all driven precisely in a single line. Vans have their own space; there are only truck cranes and dump trucks. And Uncle Oleg, an elderly mechanic who has led this base's column since the 1970s, oversees the whole family. And everything is done with deference to him, which makes sense; there's a rationale behind it. One day during my first week of work, I was so eager to go home that I parked my vehicle a little bit further out rather than in a row. When the skilled driver saw this, he came over. You would level up, friend. You have your tail jutting into the driveway, notice? Indeed, it's rather typical. There is sufficient space for everyone.

Zoya won't have enough, but you will have enough. She will arrive tomorrow. "Move the car," Uncle Oleg said.

The guy only chuckled when asked who Zoya was and what she needed most. Uncle Oleg's word, however, is legally founded. I got the vehicle relocated and headed home. I discovered something this morning next to my car on the playground... Have you seen any American films featuring truck drivers? After that, you'll know what a Kenworth T-800 carrying a 12-foot container is. If you haven't seen it, let me explain: it has a massive, vintage American tractor with a little sleeping bag, brilliant red paint, gleaming chrome wheels, and several other tiny details. The letters Z, painted in the zigzag pattern of Zorro, were on its entrance. The trailer was too large for the location, and I spent hours trapped in the driveway, obstructing my path and that of another vehicle. The road train's numbers belonged to the northern, 89th area, not our Krasnodar ones. Flabbergasted by this impudence, I headed to the office, eager to hear the reprimand Uncle Oleg would plan for the unfortunate motorist. Surprisingly, however, I discovered a petite, slender, attractive female of approximately 25 sitting in his chair. There was a baseball hat with the same Z on the table next to it as the ones on the truck doors.

Hi there, lovely one! Uncle Oleg is missing.

Where is he?

Dad has left. What was it you wanted?

-Daddy?

Consider this. What, then, did you wish for?

A little bit of... Oh my... An oddball obstructed my way out. You don't know whose Kenworth it is with the cargo. I apologize; I'll move it right away. Just a moment! "So, is that yours?" It was a straightforward narrative in the end. When Zoya was three years old, Uncle Oleg's wife passed away from cancer. It was the 1990s, a time of turmoil and destruction. Uncle Oleg started taking the infant to work with him since he had no one else to leave her with and the kindergarten's food was terrible. Little Zoika has been growing up at the auto dealership ever since. The drivers referred to her among themselves as "the daughter of the regiment" in jest. She first got behind the wheel when she was ten years old, and by the time she was sixteen, she was well-known for driving anything with wheels. Uncle Oleg originally complained for a very long time because he wanted to see his daughter have a better education and a respectable career. However, he waived his hand when Zoika yielded to an ancient MAZ truck crane with a half-dead engine and no power steering. She also found it impossible to imagine living without multi-ton machinery. Despite having a similar petite and frail appearance to her mother, she chose to become a truck driver. She unlocked every category with ease, even though, at 23, she may not have had a license for anything other than airplanes. Subsequently, she acquired a vehicle and sold the flat she had inherited from her grandmother. That American. Additionally, he has been touring the nation for the last five years. Therefore, don't be shocked to see the driver of a brilliant red Kenworth with the letter Z on the door if you come across it anywhere in our huge Motherland; it's only Zoika, the "daughter of the regiment" from the Krasnodar area.