Mads: Cross-country Broad

I was having difficulty settling into life in Norman. I went to Oklahoma City for some serious boozing, and found myself at an all night truckstop at 5.30 am eating waffles with some hookers. That's when I saw her. She was sitting by herself, reading a paperback copy of As I Lay Dying while she drank her coffee and ate her burnt toast. I went over and introduced myself.

"Name's Helen. I'm a truck driver."

I found out that she was heading for Los Angeles. I convinced her to take me along. We had a ripping hot time as we ventured across the southwest. My chauffeur was a little worried our constant detours would keep us from making her delivery time, though, so I decided to empty her cargo contents and fill it with more partyers. By the time we hit Los Angeles, 10 days later, Helen was given up for dead by her boss as having been another victim of the I-40 Strangler. I was taken in for questioning, and saw my picture plastered on FOX News and CNN. I can't lie, this face was made for the t-iz-ube. I crashed at Helen's place for another week. Girls Gone Wild offered me a sizeable sum for the truck-party idea.