Long-range shoulder. Shoulder girdle: why you can’t sympathize with Russian truckers

“These highway trucks are so scary, dirty, worn out that it’s disgusting to even touch them,” a truck driver who parked a truck near one of the cafes on the outskirts of Pavlograd told the author of these lines. Personally, I don't use their services. It happens that such a person will stand near the car, move away, and then for several more hours a terrible smell hovers in the cabin. But some other drivers use prostitutes. It was very hot for him - he ran, took the first one that came across, paid her, did his job. And then he walks and regrets: he is worried, he suddenly caught some kind of infection. …Having learned that the police were conducting a preventive operation “Night City” on the territory of the Dnepropetrovsk region, the correspondent turned to the head of the Pavlograd city district with a request to help prepare material on prostitution in the Western Donbass region. He willingly agreed to help.

Trassovichki have chosen the entrance and exit from the city

Together with the precinct GOM-1 Denis Zaika and Alexander Zubov, we leave for Dneprovskaya Street. The militiamen explain that the highway drivers mostly stand along the roads of national importance, which are used by truckers.

Such women can be seen immediately - they are downgraded alcoholics or drug addicts. They engage in prostitution to earn money for the next dose of alcohol or drugs. Usually they stand along the highway, most often in the cafe area at the entrance and exit from Pavlograd. Sometimes - in the vicinity of the bus station. When offering their services to drivers, road workers often take the initiative and approach the cabs of parked trucks themselves.

But this evening we did not see a single “moth” along Dneprovskaya Street. The district police officers explained that the operation "Night City" had been carried out the day before, during which several prostitutes had been detained. Information spread quickly in their circles, so they are still afraid to go out on the track.

Getting to know the driver

To find out more, I go up to the cab of one of the "trucks". The driver, without noticing me, puts some things. I tap softly on the window. The man peeps out and for a few seconds casts an appraising glance. Then, with surprise on his face, he opens the door.

“Good evening,” I say to him with a smile. "Can I take a few minutes of your time?"

“Mo-oh-oh-oh…” the driver answers with even more surprise and a smile, continuing to examine me from head to toe.

I explain that I am a journalist and I am preparing a material about prostitution in our region. So I would like to talk to him about it. The man's face is clearly disappointed. The smile instantly disappears, and he immediately answers seriously: “But I have nothing to tell, I don’t use their services.” However, when I explained that I was not interested in him personally, but simply in the drivers' point of view on this problem, the man relaxed a little and agreed to a conversation.

Trucker Confessions

“There are few such prostitutes in your region,” he said. - Here in Kyiv on the ring road there are at least a dime a dozen of them. There are also many in the Donetsk region. By the way, youngsters are often found there - 12-13 years old. Their services are used not only by truckers. Often, "cool" foreign cars drive up there.

If we take the regions of Ukraine, then most of all "shoulder" (as drivers call highways - ed.) in western Ukraine. Apparently, this is due to the fact that it is much more difficult for people to find work there. Many girls are driven by poverty.

In the 90s, and even in the early 2000s, there were much more prostitutes on the highway than now. Nowadays, many of them sit in cafes along the road and wait for one of the men to come up to them. You can see them right away. What normal girl will sit alone in a cafe in the evening and drink one glass of cola or a cup of coffee for a long time? - the trucker explains with knowledge of the matter.

- And how much do the services of trassovichek cost? I ask again.

- Sexual intercourse on average 40-50 hryvnia, and oral sex - 20-30 hryvnia. It all depends on how the prostitute evaluates herself.

On the Internet - repair of intimate things

Trying to find out as much as possible about the intimate services provided in our region, I launch a search on the Internet. Pretty quickly I find a candid photo of a girl in beautiful underwear. It is signed that this is Galya from Pavlograd. Under the photo are the parameters of the girl: age, weight, height, chest volume, as well as the price: $ 70 per hour and $ 150 per night. True, the ad was posted on the Internet back in 2003, so the price may have changed since then.

Then I look for a whole Dnepropetrovsk sex portal. There are a lot of similar ads here: for men, women and even married couples. Many of them are with photographs. True, I did not find offers from Pavlograd, Ternovka or Pershotravensk. The only service offered by a certain Pavel from Pavlograd is “comprehensive repair and lubrication of falloimitators”. At the same time, the author of the ad adds: “I guarantee decency and anonymity.”

150-300 UAH per hour

I tried to call back or send SMS messages to some of the phones listed in the ads, but the subscribers were unavailable. No one responded to emails sent either. However, judging by the comments under the ads, people who are interested in this topic know which institutions to contact. And they even advise each other where services are cheaper and girls are better.

Most intimate services are offered on this sex portal in Dnepropetrovsk and Krivoy Rog. As for the prices, they range from 150 to 300 hryvnia per hour. These are the so-called girls (or boys) on order, as well as sauna prostitutes.

Prostitutes of Western Donbass

And about. Oleksiy Zabolotny, head of the criminal investigation department of the Ternovsky GO, willingly agreed to talk about what types of prostitution exist in Ukraine and which of them are most relevant for the Western Donbass.

According to Oleksiy Zabolotny, there are five main types of prostitution in Ukraine.

Currency

The most expensive, elite, so-called currency prostitutes. As a rule, these are young girls from about 18 to 30 years old. Beautiful, well-groomed. To improve their appearance, they often resort to the help of plastic surgeons. These prostitutes work in expensive hotels. Serve mainly foreigners or wealthy businessmen. Their services cost 300-500 dollars per night. However, 60-70% of this money is taken by pimps.

The organized crime group (OCG), which provides clients with foreign exchange prostitutes, usually includes: the organizer himself (pimp), the dispatcher who takes orders by phone, the driver who delivers the girls to the place of the call, and one or more bouncer guards. However, this type of prostitution is not typical for small towns. It exists in major regional centers. This type of prostitution has been well known in the CIS since Soviet times.

Girls under the order

In newspapers, you can often see ads like: "The girls are bored ...", "Do you want to have a good time ..." and the like. Anyone will understand exactly what services are offered in this way. The scheme of work for girls under the order is quite simple. The client calls the specified phone number and orders a girl for himself. In large cities, the work of these prostitutes is again supervised by an organized crime group, which includes a pimp, a dispatcher and a driver. In the provinces, on the other hand, girls often work for themselves on order. Or, it happens, the functions of a pimp and a dispatcher are performed by the same person. And delivers to the right place of prostitutes an ordinary taxi.

Girls under the order, as a rule, are young (18-30 years old) and attractive. Of course, the requirements for appearance here are lower than those of foreign currency prostitutes. But, nevertheless, these are pretty girls who take care of themselves. The cost of their services is up to 300 hryvnia per hour. The larger the city and the higher the income of the population, the more expensive such girls cost clients.

Sauna prostitutes

These are girls (18-30 years old) who serve clients in saunas. In large cities, men who come to take a steam bath and relax are often offered to choose a girl. For convenience of choice, the client is provided with an album with photographs. Having chosen the prostitute he likes, he pays for the services and gets what he wants.

Several girls are sometimes taken out to especially respected clients at once so that they can be examined from all sides and even touched. Thus, wealthy men choose prostitutes for their holidays.

In small towns, the system is slightly different. Here, girls usually sit in cafes at saunas and wait for their finest hour. As a rule, the administration of the institution is aware of what is happening and has its own percentage of their income. Clients just go to the cafe and negotiate directly with the girl. Also often in saunas there are phone numbers where you can order prostitutes. The cost of services of sauna prostitutes is approximately the same as for girls on order.

Trassovichki or shoulder

These girls usually offer their services along the national highways. As a rule, these are already lost alcoholics or drug addicts. Often prostitutes from the previous three elite types become highwaymen.

In this case, it is difficult to name the age criteria. Both girls of 15-16 years old and women of 35-40 years old can go on the track. It all depends on the circumstances that led them to this.

As a rule, these prostitutes practically do not monitor their appearance. They go to the track to earn money for the next dose of alcohol or drugs. Many of the trassovichek previously judged. Often they are registered with a venereologist. The cost of services of these prostitutes is low: from 10 to 50 hryvnias.

Station

These prostitutes are actually at the very bottom of life. They are usually dirty, drooping creatures with bluish faces. They are generally difficult to call women. These are homeless women who are ready to give themselves to anyone and anywhere (even in a public toilet) for a bottle of cologne or a hundred grams of vodka.

Often the services of these prostitutes are used by men who have recently been released from prison after a long term.

In addition to the five types of prostitution listed above, there is also children's - when very young girls (14-18 years old) become prostitutes. Not so long ago, a new kind of prostitutes appeared who go “on tour” abroad.

P.S. In the Western Donbass region, prostitution is much less common in small provincial towns than in megacities. After all, here many residents know each other by sight, and the girls have an elementary sense of shame…

Did Ivan Kuprin know that the plot of his story "The Pit" would be relevant in the 21st century? Although the girls who provided sex services in a private brothel in the Malinovsky district of Odessa were hardly familiar with the work of the great Russian writer. Moreover, most of the young priestesses of love have not even reached adulthood.

For more than ten years, Vladimir, born in 1972, earned money by keeping brothels. According to information available to police officers, he arranged brothels in turn in different parts of the city, recently settling in his own three-story house with eleven rooms. There was a bar in the basement of the house with a lot of drinks. Clients first relaxed, then admired the girls and chose a girlfriend for the night. This service cost $100.

The girls were recruited to the brothel, of course, not in Odessa. Former prostitute Natalya, a resident of the city of Alexandria, Kirovograd region, was engaged in the supply of live goods from the province. Once she herself worked for Vladimir, but then she gave birth to a child, and the pimp was forced to let her go home. But on the condition - she must work for him in another way - to recruit girls. What Natalia did. Of course, she did not tell the young women of Alexandria the truth about what they would have to do. Therefore, there were enough people who wanted to go to Odessa to work as cleaners, barmaids or waitresses. Alexandria is a small city, there are few opportunities to get an education or find a job there.

For each recruited girl, Natalia received $100. I didn’t fork out for tickets to Odessa. She negotiated with the conductor, gave him the girls' passports, Vladimir met them in Odessa and paid for the fare. Once in his house, the girls gradually realized that they would not be doing exactly what they expected. However, no one particularly raised the alarm. Vladimir took them to the industrial market "7th km", where the girls dressed up to have a presentation. Get $25 a night with a client. Where in Alexandria can you earn that kind of money?

The girls' clients were foreign sailors. Vladimir, who knows a little English, came to the port in his minibus (by the way, how he drove into the territory where a special pass is needed, the police find out), or waited near the exit from the port for sailors who went ashore and intended to walk around the city. He offered them to have fun with young girls, he invited clients who agreed to take the bus and brought them to his home. There, the sailors drank, the girls danced in front of them, undressed - in general, everything went according to the program, as in the brothel described by the classic. And then the guests were taken to the rooms, that is, to the rooms. Early in the morning, Vladimir woke up the sailors and took them to the port. But along the way, he increasingly began to listen to complaints that customers in the morning discovered the loss of money. Vladimir, of course, was worried. Rather, it was not the very fact of the loss of money from the guests that bothered, but the fact that the girls took the stolen money for themselves, and did not give it to him. Therefore, he decided to apply repressive measures. He forbade the girls to leave the house, regularly searched them and set prices for the food they ate in the kitchen. He charged $2 for a bottle of cola, and a dollar for a serving of potatoes.

- The police officers came to this brothel as a result of operational development, - said Alexander Petrik, head of the department for combating crimes related to human trafficking of the Main Directorate of the Ministry of Internal Affairs in the Odessa region.

At the time of detention, there were 9 girls and 4 clients in the house, as well as the owner of the brothel. The police officers have claims only to one of the prostitutes, who was the eldest over the girls, she testifies. Six priestesses of love turned out to be minors, so the detainee is prosecuted under two articles - organization, maintenance of a brothel or pandering, as well as pimping or drawing minors into prostitution. So Vladimir will have about 10 years behind bars.

“It’s quite difficult to convict of committing such crimes,” says Alexander Petrik. - Since, in addition to the testimony of the girls, it is necessary to detain the suspect at the time of the transfer of money. Moreover, the banknotes must be marked. In addition, as evidence, the investigator asks to show even used condoms.

As for Natalia, who supplied the girls to the brothel, she is accused of human trafficking, the punishment will be determined by the court.

Six underage girls, who experienced the joys of first youthful love, are now under the care of the public organization “Vera. Hope. Love, ”the girls themselves and their parents decided so. They live in the apartments of this organization, the addresses of which are unknown even to the police officers. The girls undergo a course of psychological and medical rehabilitation, then go to Kherson, where free courses are organized for women of this category. They will be able to choose the profession of a hairdresser or secretary, or learn how to work on a computer. That is, they will acquire a profession that will help them earn money not only with their own bodies.

Police officers have information that this underground brothel was far from the only one in Odessa, so work to eliminate such establishments continues.

NEIGHBORS

What must happen in a woman's life for her to decide to sell herself on the road? With this question, reporters turned to the girls of easy virtue, who are standing on the Barnaul highways - in the Russian outback. Below is a report on prostitution in the Ukrainian provincial Pavlograd and Odessa.

Roadside prostitutes appeared in Barnaul a few years ago. At first they could be counted on the fingers, then - how it burst! Girls came to work, as a rule, from regions of the region or other cities. At first they were "on duty" where they could, but then, having studied supply and demand, they grouped themselves in the most profitable areas.

Today, they can be found at any time of the day and in any weather on Anton Petrov Street (by the way, not far from the A. Nevsky Church), Popov Street (Dokuchaevo), on Leninsky Prospekt and in the area of ​​​​the 8th city clinic. We drove through these haunted places.

Lucy with a black eye

Roadside "moths" - one of the lowest castes in the hierarchy of prostitutes. Below are listed, perhaps, only the station "priestesses of love." And their prices are appropriate - they charge from fifty rubles and more, depending on the services provided, external data and age.

Some Barnaul prostitutes are fifty or sixty years old, and yet they seriously compete with twenty-year-olds. The first one that catches our eye is Lyudmila Vasilievna, or simply Lucy. So she introduced herself. She is forty-seven years old, although she looks older.

Lucy hides her eyes behind black glasses.

“Yes, the client beat me, my eye was swollen, it doesn’t open,” she explains.

Lucy says that she has only been in the sex business for a year. She lived with her husband for twenty years, got divorced, recently bought an apartment for her daughter in installments, we have to pay off.

“My daughter is 25 years old, she doesn’t do anything with me,” Lucy justifies herself. - Recently I took it off the needle, but only she again got in touch with a bad company, she pricks again.

Where Lucy is telling the truth, and where she is lying, at first you can’t make out. She claims that she sells fruit at the Old Bazaar from morning to evening, and only then goes out onto the road. But she does not at all look like a saleswoman: a swollen face covered with cheap cosmetics, a persistent smell of alcohol .... I wonder what kind of clients Aunt Lucy has?

“Today I have about 50 thousand debt for an apartment,” Lucy continues. - A lot of money, as soon as I pay off, I'll get out of the way.

When asked about earnings, he answers evasively:

- This is when. This month she earned seven thousand, but this is along with the market. And on the road ... On the road yesterday, for example, I took thirty rubles, and the day before yesterday - five hundred. I'm an older lady.

- Can't find another job? - we ask.

- Janitor, or what? Yes, fig! I don't want a penny.

The girls from Koshcheeva Street prompted her to go out onto the road. They themselves regularly confuse in order to earn money for drugs. According to Aunt Lucy, young prostitutes do not offend her, she herself will offend anyone she wants. But sometimes she “flies” from clients: once they put her in the cellar, another time they beat her with sticks. But, in spite of everything, every evening she again goes out on the road.

"Mom finds out - she will kill"

Aunt Lucy's competitor is a young girl in a miniskirt and holding a cigarette in Valentine's mouth. She recently turned 22 years old. Valya is a typical representative of road prostitutes.

“I started working on the track five years ago, I was seventeen then,” she says not without pride. - My schedule is from 12 noon to 24 hours. I work, then I go to a friend, with whom I live.

She is not a local girl, she came from the Topchikhinsky district. She used to work (although now it seems that it was in someone else's life) in a regional hospital.

When asked why she did not go to the village to work, she answers:

“What am I, a fool, to work as a milkmaid for fifteen hundred a month, when here I earn almost three a day!”

Valya's parents work on a collective farm and do not even suspect what she is doing.

- My mother is just gold, if she finds out, she won’t survive.

Valya told her mom and dad that she met a wealthy man in the city who provides for her. Parents believed their smart daughter and they don’t ask her anything else - if only she was fine.

- Yes, you judge for yourself, what to take from village alcoholics and womanizers? she argues.

Valentina says that she tried to leave the track, did not work for a whole year. It turns out that the guy met her, fell in love, took the unfortunate woman off the road. A great love came to the girl, just like in the famous American film "Pretty Woman". But the ending isn't like that.

- I loved him very much, I gave birth to a child from him. But then he was hit by a car, and I was left alone with my daughter, of course, again went to the road. The child died, I could not get a job, because when I was pregnant, my purse with documents was stolen from me at the station. It was necessary to restore, to wait for a birth certificate from the Irkutsk region. There is nowhere to live. There are no documents. If I had a passport, I would have quit this occupation, I would have found a job ...

Pitiful story! You can slip. Later in the conversation, she contradicts herself:

“You see, it’s addictive like slot machines. Now I have to go to the track, otherwise I can’t.

In her case, "I can't" means "I can't." There is no romance at the bottom. They go to the panel to earn money. And this money is so dirty that it can't be washed off in a lifetime. It is clear that girls come up with various stories to justify themselves, and many then begin to believe in them themselves.

Valentina lives with a married friend who regularly goes to the track with her every day. True, she tells her husband that she is only Valya's pimp.

We ask:

- They say that most of the girls who work on the track take drugs?

- Many of them are drug addicts, almost all of them are visitors. I know girls from Biysk. One mother is an alcoholic, the girl ran away from home. Another stepfather is pestering - she left for Barnaul. Vika was raped by her stepfather, she ran away with her 14-year-old sister and now “works” on the highway. Ksenia and Olesya ran away because of their mother: she sold them to peasants for a bottle of vodka.

But money helps to quickly forget about everything. Especially when it's big money.

“After work, I enjoy my life. Let's calculate: I "go" 150-200 rubles at a time. More expensive during the day - 200-250. So it turns out - 2-3 thousand a day, - Valentina proudly reports. - Is it worth it or not?

What will stop?

Preventive conversations with roadside prostitutes are a useless exercise. Other measures are needed. The norms of the law do not stipulate responsibility for this type of "labor" activity. For example, the district commissioner, on whose territory moths “work”, has the right only to conduct a prophylactic explanatory conversation with the girls about the dangers of their lifestyle. They nod their heads in understanding and continue to do the same. They, as doctors say, have an addiction like a drug. Few are returning to normal life. Most of them are gone. They get hooked on a needle and die from an overdose, die at the hands of clients, from venereal diseases, or commit suicide themselves.

Used materials from the newspapers "Popular Vedomosti" (Dnepropetrovsk),

The car skidded on the turn so that it screeched its brakes terribly, with a squeal and a roar flew into a ditch, almost overturning.
- Here, bitch, because of her I almost did not make an accident! - the driver of a foreign car shouted in fright and surprise, clutching the steering wheel with whitened fingers.
- Yes, you do not drive jitters, calm down. Everything is fine, they are alive, and the car is intact, why are you freaking out? - I said from the back seat, hitting my shoulder hard on the ledge.
- Not x ... I give you! Nothing! Because of which? Because of some slut! Shurka, the driver of the car, fumed.
- Yes, what's the matter, explain plainly - I did not understand. - What kind of slut, what are you? Shurik didn’t fit into the turn, and are you looking for the culprit?
- In what turn. She, bitch, rushed right under the wheels ...
- Where is she?
- I know. Maybe it's in the bushes.
Shurka and I jumped out of the car. God forbid they really shot down ...
- And here she is! - Shurik yelled and with a swing hit some girl in the face, barely standing on her feet, a little behind the car.
The girl collapsed to the ground.
- What are you, Sasha, stop it! What are you fighting? I shouted, quickly running up to Shurik. - Still, God forbid, with anger you will start kicking with your feet. I can't stand it when women are beaten, whether they are right or wrong, I don't care. "You can't beat them" was my rule. Shurik really intended to continue the execution, jumping up to the woman who had fallen face down. I barely had time to grab his hand.
- Stop, I say, but not that! - and I showed my fist. - Between the eyes I will light up so much that it will be very painful!
Shurik retreated.
- That's because, bastard, almost sent to the next world, but is touched, as if nothing had happened!
- Okay, now we'll figure it out.
I walked up to the woman and touched her shoulder.
- Get up, no one will touch you, I promise.
The woman continued to lie. Only a rare twitch of her shoulders indicated that she was crying or laughing. Maybe some kind of psychic, or a drug addict, now a lot of all sorts of divorced ...
- Get up, get up - I already grabbed the edge of a long cloak and began to lift the woman. Don't be afraid, Shurik won't touch you anymore. Really, Shurik? he asked the driver, who had stepped away gradually.
- Yes, well, her ... - Shurik cursed dirty again.
- You heard it? All, I'm sorry, let's get up.
The woman finally began to calm down and raised her head. And then I froze. In front of me was a girl, about thirteen or fourteen years old, quite a teenager, with still plump lips and a red trickle of blood on the edge of her mouth. But the childish gray eyes looked so sad and angry that I felt uneasy.
- Shurik, it's a girl!
- Girl! I know these girls. **** roadside, not a girl. Shoulder, no doubt.
- Didn't understand who? I asked.
- Shoulder. Wow! Prostitutes are so called that they trade with truckers. After fucking, they fall asleep on their shoulders, and they go all the way - they drove and the girl on their shoulders. Scream!
Shurik came closer, looked at the girl and blinked wildly.
- You, you, you ... - Shurka gasped from the spoken words. - Yes, this is Katyukha, - Shurik babbled, still not believing his own eyes.
- Do you know her? - Even more Shurik, I was surprised.
Shurik fell silent, not knowing what to answer. He was silent for a minute, then shouted angrily:
- Katyukha, my cousin, Yura's uncles, daughter.
- What uncle Yura? I didn't understand.
- Yes, the son of grandfather Stepan. Uncle Yura is in prison now, and this is his daughter.
I silently looked at the girl. “But she’s beautiful, and somehow looks like Stepan’s grandfather,” I noted to myself.
“How did you get here,” Shurik yelled again, coming to his senses. What are you doing here on the track? I almost hit you! Why did you throw yourself under the wheels, you fool?
Katya was silent. She wiped her face with a handkerchief, stood up, shook off her long and dirty cloak, found a mirror, and began to preen herself, as if nothing of the kind had happened.
- Will you answer me, or do you want to get hit in the face again? Shurik shouted again, running up to the girl from behind.
I managed to intercept the hand brought by Shurik.
- Everything, Shurik, everything, that's it. Don't you dare, got it? Go ahead, start the car, we'll leave now.
Shurka went to the car, walked around and sat behind the wheel, began to start.
Katyusha put herself in order, and even summed up her plump lips with bright red lipstick.
I chuckled to myself as I watched this teenage woman. The profession leaves its mark - the face must be attractive. This is the first commandment of any prostitute, the rest is secondary. “Well, the mind is in last place,” the priestesses of love themselves like to joke.
It seemed to me quite unnatural that this very young girl became a professional venal love. “Looks like the second Sonechka Marmeladova,” - for some reason this comparison came to mind. “Lord, Russia, you, Russia! Why don’t you take care of your daughters, sending them on the high road to trade themselves? But my thoughts were interrupted by Shurik:
- Come on, help me, I can't go to the track alone.
I approached and, making an effort, helped the car to drive onto the asphalt.
- Here, order. Well, are you with us or will you stay to work? Shurik shouted to Katyukha, who was standing on the sidelines and watching our fuss.
“No, I want to go home,” she said softly, barely audible.
“She wants to go home…” Shurik muttered. - Come on, sit down, I'll take you to Aunt Natasha. Let her walk away on your ass with a broom so that she doesn’t hang out with anyone. Go, sit down, - Shurik commanded.
Katyusha obediently approached the car:
- Where does he sit down?
- In the front seat, where your girlfriends always sit, - Shurik quipped.
Katyusha, without saying a word, got into the front seat. I, with my heavy and overweight figure, climbed back into the back seat.
“Well, touch it, Shurik, just keep your eyes peeled, otherwise you’ll run into some one again,” I was joking.
- Ugh, ugh, to hell, - Shurik spat over his left shoulder and crossed himself. - Save and save, Saint Nicholas the Pleasant. It was he who saved me today, - Shurik said, pointing to the icon attached to the dashboard next to the steering wheel.
“Trust in God, but don’t make a mistake yourself,” I answered more by inertia than with meaning, solving a difficult task in my mind at that time: how to help the granddaughter, the deceased grandfather Stepan?
- Listen, Katerina, tell us how you got to such a life? I decided to take the bull by the horns.
It is known that girls of easy virtue easily split when under anesthesia with booze or smoking dope. Katerina did not smell of alcohol, which means the second. Inadequate behavior on the track just does not occur. And I was not mistaken.
- And what to tell something? Everything is like everyone else. My father was imprisoned when I was six years old, I never saw him again. Mom began to drink, she began to beat me and two brothers. Those younger ones, so there are fewer of them, she took out all the evil on me, and beat me with anything. Here, on the head, a mark for life, - and Katyusha, lifting her hair, showed a deep scar on her left temple. - Mommy hit her chair so hard that they pumped me out in the hospital. She was imprisoned for three years, and we were assigned to an orphanage. It would be better if Grandfather and Grandmother Klava were taken, but they weren’t given to them – they were old. The brothers were taken to one orphanage, and I was taken to another, there were no places in that one. And there the orders are such that they either steal or become bandits ... Guys who go where, many are on the run, but I have nowhere to go. She endured as long as she could. And then, our supply manager, Sidorych, assigned all the older girls to engage in prostitution. The boarding house stood on the outskirts of the city, the peasants, especially the elderly and chocks, fell in a shaft. They fucked the girls, and gave the money to Sidorych. When I was ten, Sidorych called me to his office, pulled up my skirt and left ... right on the couch. She says - that's it, the girl has matured, go to work ... She cried, asked Sidorych not to send me to the peasants. And he - no, they say, how will you work. “What will I give you to drink, feed you?” She went and complained to the headmistress Nelli Rakhmanovna, she said: “This cannot be. Sidor Terentyevich is a modest person, you slander him. And put it out the door. What was left for me? She began to spread her legs like everyone else. All night, sometimes without a break. Especially after pay, they will fly like flies on honey ... Ugh! Katerina spat savoryly at her feet. - Listen, give me a smoke!
Shurik, stunned by his sister's story, was silent, not knowing what to say, and whether to believe Katerina. I also sat. Anger streaked across my face. I wanted to go immediately and punch that son of a bitch, Sidorych, in the face so that he would wash himself with his own blood. I took out a cigarette and handed it to Katerina. She flicked on the lighter, lit a cigarette, took a few deep puffs, and began blowing smoke rings. After enjoying her cigarette, she continued:
- I ran away, wandered around the stations, stole ... Sometimes, if I was lucky, the traders from the stalls gave me some work - tomatoes or something else to sort out. You earn a hundred rubles - you feel happy! I'll buy a bun with marmalade, tea with sugar, and still have some left over for ice cream... Kaif! The men pestered, but not like in a boarding school, there is chaos. And here it is like this: I want ladies, I want no. Rarely has anyone been raped. But the cops got it. One Armenian man, who kept me in a stall, hid me from them twice. Then he says: “That's it, go away, what do you care? You are a minor. And they can get me." I left. And where to? I got on the track to go to my grandfather and grandmother. Basement nationalists on a foreign car. "Let's go, beauty, ride?" Let's go, they took me to the south, they raped me with a whole gang, I almost died. She ran away, ended up in Rostov, where she turned over the winter, and moved home. I found out that grandfather Stepan had died, and grandmother Klava, moreover, went nuts on this basis. I went to my mother Natasha. She was already out of prison, she took up her own again, drinking and walking. Gone old, as a witch has become, no teeth, but give me booze and grub. But I feel sorry for her, mother all the same ... - the girl, having smoked her cigarette, nervously crumpled the cigarette butt in her fingers. - So I went back to the track. I earn money, this is what my mother and I live on.
- What happened today? I asked as calmly as possible.
- What about today? The same as yesterday and the day before yesterday. She came to St. Petersburg, worked successfully, took more than three thousand. On the way back, a black man dropped by in a jeep and offered five grand. Well, I guess I'll take the risk. Five thousand is a lot of money, I'll rest at home for a week or two. Agreed. And he, a freak, gave cigarettes with dope. I worked and became prettier so that I did not understand where and what. He threw me out here, at the fork, without paying ... And here you are. I wanted to stop the car, so I stepped onto the asphalt. I felt that it was not necessary, but not to stop, my legs carried themselves. The head is plague, a push, I fly into the bushes, the car into the pit, Shurka comes out and slaps me in the face ... That's all.
- N-yes ... - not knowing what to say, I mumbled.
Finally, Shurik came to his senses:
- Tomorrow I'm going to your boarding school, I'll file a lawsuit against all this bastard. Let them judge. Just don't drift when called. You need witnesses, you understand?
Katyusha smiled.
- You're not the first. Everything was bought from them there, and the cops, and the courts, and the authorities ...
- And we'll see about that, - Shurik did not let up. “Really, Sergeich?”
- That's for sure, Shurik, we will still fight for the guys ...
- It's you, Katyukha, don't go to Aunt Natasha yet. Live with us, - continued Shurik. - There will be enough space in the hut, you will help your mother around the house.
Katerina again silently smiled and nodded her head: she habitually did not object, but she knew that she would not go to Shurka's mother, Aunt Nastya. She guessed what the relative was doing, and more than once shamed her. Yes, I feel sorry for the mother. Who will need her, dear blood? Lost without her. No, she won't, for sure.
I guessed what Katerina was smiling at, and silently listened to Shurik's heated speeches, thinking about how to really help the girl.
We arrived in Fedulovo in the late afternoon. We stopped near Shurik's house:
- Will I take you, Sergeich?
- No, I'll go myself. Thank you, Sasha, - I held out my hand to him. - Helped out while my horse was repaired.
- And where are you going? Shurik shouted, seeing that Katyusha quickly walked away from us.
She waved her hand, saying that everything will be fine, and her thin childish figure in a ridiculous long cloak disappeared into the evening air.
- Here, fool! Shura scolded. - Okay, I'll go to Aunt Natasha, I'll figure it out, - he promised me goodbye.
I tried to arrange the fate of Katyusha. I found a job for her in the city, rented a small apartment, began to seek the restoration of her rights, going through the authorities every day. One fine day, Katyusha called me on my mobile phone.
- Uncle Kolya, thank you for everything, but I don’t want to be a burden, and I don’t believe in justice. Farewell ... - and turned off the phone.
A year and a half later, at the entrance to Moscow, in Khimki, a pretty, well-dressed girl in a short skirt, black glasses, with brightly painted full lips stopped the car.
- Do you want to give the girl a ride, uncle?
The voice sounded very familiar to me.
- Katerina, you?
The girl jumped away from the door.
- Uncle Kolya!..
- Listen, Katerina, I was looking for you. Why did you leave? I started. - Sit down, everything will be fine now, I promise you ...
But the girl shook her head.
- Sorry, you misunderstood. I'm not Katerina, I'm Dina. Sorry, - she slammed the car door and walked away ...
I did not know what to do, jumped out, caught up with her.
- Listen, take some money. Here, here I have ten thousand cash, no more. ..Let's go home, Katerina, wife, son remember and wait for you. I speak true!
I began to thrust money into the girl's hand, but she waved it away and, crying, rushed to run.
And for a long time a dark red jeep with flashing lights on stood on the side of the road, and a handsome man walked and smoked nearby, waving his arms, as if talking to himself. An avalanche of cars with indifferent people rushed past, occasionally honking when a man ran out onto the asphalt, not knowing why ...

I met Ksyusha at night near Ryazan, on the Moscow highway. I sat in a roadside cafe, drank tea, talked with an elderly saleswoman, yearned. It was necessary to lay out a boring tent and sleep in a terrible cold. It's windy and damp outside.

She went in, took off her scanty patent-leather jacket and folded in half from coughing. I repaid the debt to the saleswoman, showed her a plastic tablecloth, which I had just received as a gift from a trucker. They twisted this nonsense in their hands and adapted to cover the buns so that they would not become stale.

- In men, ah! Instead of diamonds, they give plastic tablecloths,” the saleswoman says jokingly and looks askance at me.

“Fuck my diamonds, I’m like a diamond myself.” Aunt Tamara, pour some tea.

She took her personal, huge mug, sat down at the table and began to look for cigarettes. I handed her the pack.

“And this is a journalist,” Aunt Tamara says proudly. — Travels from Kyiv.

Journalist you say? - Ksyusha looks askance at me, - Journalist ... I would tell you so many stories, journalist ...

- Well, tell me, - I moved to her table. — I have plenty of time.

She is thirty-five, she is a prostitute. Her services cost 300, 400 or 500 rubles, depending on the complexity. She herself comes from Kazakhstan, although she does not remember her native places. Half Ukrainian, half Kazakh - this is what she knows about her parents. She grew up in an orphanage. She received her first term for stealing a moped, she was in a children's colony.

Does not thump and does not prick. Proudly shows clean veins. She herself was completely preserved, the figure is, only thin, the cheekbones are cut on the face.

- I lost weight after giving birth. She gave birth to a boy this spring. I didn’t survive… Being pregnant, I stood on the track to the last, all winter. Maybe that's why...

The last term - ten years - Ksyusha served for murder. She literally quartered her roommate with an ax, thirty-five wounds.

- He beat me, and then with scissors in the neck twice, see the scar? ... - he throws his head back, - he called his neighbor, shouting that I stumbled, cut myself, an ambulance ... They sewed me up, I lay there for a week. His sister came and asked not to put him in jail. Yes, I was not going to sit him down ... Then I watched TV, - there is a TV in the corridor, and something jumped. Something jumped. Not recovering, she ran away from the hospital and decided to have a roommate.

- I, as soon as I got out of prison, went on a spree for a year. Ten years without a man, think about it. BUT? Then she went to work to get a job, they ask - why didn’t she come right after her release? - Walking, I say! And what? Ten years, they would have tried ...

I have no end of clients. One from Germany came twice, - shows a phone with nameless numbers, - All clients. The phone is new, I took it for five thousand. My last trucker stole, brute. He put me in a cafe, he said, wait, order something there, I'm right now, but he washed off. The bastard, he took away his purse, money, phone ... Never mind, I'll meet him again. I’ll meet - not like I’ll pierce the wheels ... I’ll ask my friends - they are his ... They are homeless, but the mountain is for me ... They say - “Ksenia, we are for you ...”

And coughing and coughing.

— I work without pimps. I will feed these brats... Estimate, right now, pimps are 19-20 years old, youngsters. It is they who must feed me, my aunt ... They beat me here already. And I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid of anything. I tell them - "Well, beat it, then another will take my place tomorrow." There is a whole crowd of girls working behind the bridge. Also on themselves. And you don't have to feel sorry for me. Everyone has a difficult life. Do you have it, is it easy? Clients immediately complain to me about life, and then already ... It is difficult for everyone. Everyone has.

She speaks, she speaks, her chin rested on her hand, her eyes are closed.

- You would, Ksyusha, shelter a person, eh? - Aunt Tamara intervenes, - why put him in a tent, this is not human.

- To the dacha, or what? - Ksyusha started up, - Only I don’t have light there. And there is no heating. But the blanket is new, downy. Pure, don't think. I have a dacha here, I bought it for seven thousand. I lived there in winter, the floor was slippery from ice.

Yes, it's kind of awkward...

— No, look, Aunt Tamar! A tramp, but what a shy one... Only you can buy something to eat?... A little bit.

We bought food and went. To go - along some kind of landing, past the landfill, and the truth is one hundred and fifty meters. A dark tiny house, a yard with weeds and apple trees, a crooked gate.

“Look, sill, the boards are brand new, I nailed it myself.

Ksyusha became somewhat shy and fussy.

- Here is a sofa, normal, a clean blanket, goose. Just no duvet cover. Don't worry, I don't bring anyone here, you're the first. It's clean here. See the boards on the ceiling? My friends did this to me, I asked. They are homeless, but good guys. And this is a bear - look, bear, he recites poetry.

He takes a teddy bear from the bed, presses it, and he begins to recite about Christmas trees, cones, berries and honey.

- This is my friend. The trucker gave it to me.

By this time I already had a lump in my throat. Especially when this bear, the only creature with whom she just sleeps, in a dark cold house began to tell her nursery rhymes in a kind metallic voice.

- No pillows! And there is no mattress ... How can I put you without a mattress ... - No, you sit here, smoke, and I'm behind the mattress. I used to live nearby, rented a house until I bought this one.

And jumped out. I took the cigarettes, put the knife in my pocket, and went outside the outhouse. Well, just think - a prostitute from the highway leads you through a dark landing to some house where no one will look for anyone. Dumb? There is a weirdo. Then she runs away, and will return alone or with the company - God knows. Because the knife is in my pocket, and I'm standing around the corner.

No, she came back. Rolling up the huge mattress, he tries to close the gate with it on his shoulder.

And coughing, coughing. There is no light in the house, with a flashlight her face seems greenish.

- I have one sofa, you see for yourself. Get undressed. You start pestering - I'll hit my elbow.

Ksyushenka, fool, well, with what elbow? You are shaken by the wind. I did not undress, just in case. I secretly put the knife under the sofa. She undressed, jumped under the covers, trembling quietly.

- Cold.

- Can you hug?

- Hug. No, give me my phone, I'll put on a song for you. About me. Do you know the Vorovayki group, don't you? ... Listen here.

“Not a thief… not a slut… she didn’t know such a word before…” Ksyusha covered herself with a blanket over her head, rustling candy wrappers in the dark.

What are you doing, falling asleep with candy in your mouth? Khan's teeth will be.

— An orphanage habit, — he giggles quite like a child, — I love "Rachki". Don't you love? We were forced to sleep under the covers in the orphanage. Who leaned out, that ruler. Listen, don’t leave tomorrow with my last rubles, I have 500, I earned it today. If you pick up the last 500, I’ll find it ... I’ll tell my friends. And I will cough in my sleep a lot, I'm sorry.

So we fell asleep.

Woke up early. She slept with my hand pressed to her instead of a bear.

I washed myself - the faucet from the watering pipe in the corner of the garden, as soon as frosts begin, it is blocked. Made her tea on my stove. He rubbed his back with alcohol - some trucker gave me a whole bottle, no more than a third remained. She wrapped herself in a blanket.

“Forgive me for not seeing you off,” Ksyusha boomed in a cold voice, “you go to the sound of cars, don’t think about anything, finally.”

I went out into the hallway, checked my things, looked into my wallet, counted. He put some money on her nightstand. Not too much and not too little, like a hotel. And left.

Previous travel notes of our correspondent can be found under the heading "Diary of a Hitchhiker "

At the end of autumn 2015, Russian truckers from the heroes of TV shows and folk tales became news characters. The introduction of a system for collecting money for driving on federal highways for heavy trucks can lead to a serious change in the cargo transportation market in Russia. Outraged truck drivers are threatening to come to Moscow and paralyze traffic in the capital, protesting against the new fiscal policy. Ruposters explains why truckers can hardly count on the mass compassion of their own compatriots.

Burnt alcoholization

Roads are the circulatory system of any country, and many Russian truckers do not hesitate to drive counterfeit and other illegal goods through it, including counterfeit alcohol and drugs.

The Union of Producers of Alcoholic Products believes that the share of surrogate alcohol on store shelves reaches 50%. A significant part of this alcohol is transported by truckers on false documents, which they are well aware of.

The reason for the popularity of heavy trucks in the implementation of smuggling schemes is understandable. On federal highways, there is no such enhanced control as at Russian Railways loading stations, and due to the large number of trucks, law enforcement agencies simply do not have enough people and resources to check everyone (how exactly they check trucks, we will tell below). Truck drivers transport goods with fake excises worth billions of rubles, not much reflecting because of the mass deaths of their own compatriots from low-quality alcoholic beverages.

Truckers with hectoliters of singed whiskey, vodka and other spirits are caught so often that regional news feeds are full of relevant headlines. Hard drugs are transported in no less impressive volumes.

In New Moscow, 10 trucks with counterfeit alcohol were detained. The police found and seized over 200 thousand bottles of surrogate alcohol, with a capacity of 0.5 and 0.7 liters. >>>

A truck carrying 22,000 bottles of counterfeit vodka was detained on the Don. The inspectors stopped the DAF truck at the 856th kilometer of the M-4 Don federal highway. >>>

Kamyshinskaya police found 20 tons of counterfeit vodka in a truck with baby food. As experts have established, the excise stamps on the bottles turned out to be counterfeit. >>>

A trucker brought 60 kg of heroin from Kyrgyzstan to Russia through the Chelyabinsk region. The truck driver was convicted of drug smuggling and sentenced to 19 years in prison. The defendant admitted his guilt in part, stating that he allegedly did not know about caches with heroin. >>>

In Novosibirsk, two truckers were detained - they transported about 80 kg of heroin and 27.5 kg of hashish in hidden cavities under the body of a KamAZ truck. According to the documents, long-distance drug couriers arrived in the Novosibirsk region to sell grapes. >>>

car killers

Drivers of large trucks cannot boast of discipline and compliance with the rules on the road. Any Russian motorist from Kamchatka to Kaliningrad can tell about dozens of accidents performed by truck drivers that could end sadly or lead to a tragic outcome for other road users.

According to the traffic police, over the past three years, the number of accidents involving heavy trucks has increased by 17.7%. In 2014, due to traffic violations committed by truck drivers, 10,256 accidents occurred. As a result, we are dealing with figures that are more like news from Syria - more than two thousand dead and 12 thousand injured drivers and passengers.

Due to the overwhelming number of cars on the highways, truck accident statistics are lost in the general mass and do not attract due attention. But due to the incomparable dimensions, accidents involving a heavy truck almost always end in the death of passengers in passenger cars.

In addition to reckless recklessness, heavy truck drivers often fall asleep at the wheel, ram cars with their trucks, knock down people on the roadsides and pedestrian crossings. The chronic problems of truckers are poor health, uncontrolled use of stimulants, excessive fatigue due to long flights, and a disregard for the safety and life of others. But for some reason, unbearable working conditions that threaten their own lives and the health of surrounding road users do not force drivers of heavy trucks to organize a protest action.

All of the above problems were radically solved in 2013 by obliging all drivers of heavy trucks to install tachographs (devices that record the time of work and rest of drivers). According to the State Traffic Inspectorate of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia, in 2014 more than 170 thousand protocols were drawn up for the absence or incorrect use of tachographs.

According to Daimler, 90% of truck accidents are caused by drivers, and 12% of accidents involve trucker fatigue. In 2014, truck drivers violated traffic rules 2,910,077 times, of which 19,368 did not have the right to drive vehicles of this type at all.

The video recorder filmed how a truck crushed a pensioner in Kazan. >>>

A terrible accident was arranged by a trucker on the M-51 highway near Novosibirsk, killing three workers. >>>

In the Krasnodar Territory, a driver who fell asleep at the wheel of a MAN rammed two cars, killing three people. >>>

A drunk trucker dragged and damaged five parked cars in Krasnoyarsk. The driver could not explain his actions - having opened the cab door, he fell to the ground and could not recover for a long time. >>>

A terrible accident in Tatarstan - on the M-7 highway, a truck driving over a bridge fell from a 30-meter height into the Vyatka River. As a result of the accident, the man died on the spot. >>>

On the M-10 highway near Tver, a truck drove into a crowd of striking truckers, one dead. >>>

The video recorder filmed how a truck crushed a pensioner in Kazan. >>>

A terrible accident was arranged by a trucker on the M-51 highway near Novosibirsk, killing three workers. >>>

In the Krasnodar Territory, a driver who fell asleep at the wheel of a MAN rammed two cars, killing three people. >>>

A drunk trucker dragged and damaged five parked cars in Krasnoyarsk. The driver could not explain his actions - having opened the cab door, he fell to the ground and could not recover for a long time. >>>

A terrible accident in Tatarstan - on the M-7 highway, a truck driving over a bridge fell from a 30-meter height into the Vyatka River. As a result of the accident, the man died on the spot. >>>

On the M-10 highway near Tver, a truck drove into a crowd of striking truckers, one dead. >>>

In the "brotherhood of truckers" there is a kind of code of honor. As the survey results show, support and mutual assistance are far from empty words for truck drivers.

More cargo - more bribes

A trucker on a flight is easy prey for unscrupulous traffic police officers. Since the technical condition of many heavy vehicles leaves much to be desired, the inspector always has something to complain about. The situation is aggravated by constant axle overloads and violations of speed limits, which truck drivers often sin.

Truck drivers do not hide the fact that they solve their problems on the highway exclusively “on the spot”, preferring to give a bribe to an official than to draw up a protocol and do everything according to the law. This is how the system has worked and continues to work, which, apparently, suits everyone, in contrast to the new fees from truckers. Drivers of trucks treat regular requisitions on the roads very humbly.

In accordance with federal law, a driver's fine for overloading reaches 10 thousand rubles (with an overload of more than 50%), and for legal entities - from 350 to 400 thousand. Weight control points today are considered the main nightmare of truckers. It is almost impossible to pass such a point without a bribe. According to the new law, which came into force in 2015, the protocol and the decision are issued at the place where the violation is detected - at the weight control point by the inspector of road supervision. Previously, the protocols were drawn up by the traffic police, and road supervision only revealed the facts of overload.

A bribe under the scheme "trucker - traffic cop" remains a sad symbol of cargo transportation, despite the growing number of criminal cases on charges of corruption.

Alien track

The specifics of the work of a trucker involves a constant search for workarounds to bypass weight control points, since most trucks allow you to pass the route with a deliberate overload (up to 20-25 tons per car).

This leads to premature wear and destruction of the roadway, accidents on the roads and illegal enrichment of law enforcement officers who receive bribes for tacit consent to what is happening.

More than 40% of freight transport (almost every second truck) moves on the roads of Russia in violation of weight and size parameters. According to Rosavtodor, this is eight times higher than the average European level.

As practice shows, the main causes of accidents involving heavy vehicles are precisely overload (especially if the mass of the trailer is greater than the mass of the main heavy truck). Technically defective cars with a large mass pose a much greater threat on the road than other modes of transport.

The trucker earns on overloads and high speed. They willingly share with their colleagues the practice of violating the rules of transportation of goods to ensure profit.

“700, 1000 kilometers, when I go 30 hours without sleep. To be honest, I would drive for 8 hours a day and carry 20 tons, not 40, and so that my work is valued fairly, but this is somewhere in another world, perhaps not here. So we will continue to carry overloads and not observe the sleep and rest regimen. Accordingly, corruption will flourish because of this.” >>>

“If you work “cleanly”, you won’t earn money. Sometimes you drive for 15 hours. As long as your health allows, you can sleep for 4 hours, and go ahead. , unloading is not paid. Therefore, you have to make up for lost earnings by walking 1200-1400 kilometers a day. " >>>

To reduce the amount of the fine for overloading, truckers often forge bills of lading. Truck parking lots are run by companies that print documents, licenses and permits for transported goods for a moderate fee.

shoulder epidemic

Many truckers are away from home for months, which leads to a reassessment of life values ​​and, as a result, problems with men's health. Instead of the courageous image of a workaholic-"getter" for his relatives (or a serial joker), the people for last years a fundamentally different image of a trucker has developed, who systematically destroys the ideals of the family, takes a mistress (preferably several - along the entire route), multiplying prostitution and the number of venereal diseases in the vicinity of federal highways (there are worthy exceptions, but they are few).

Chronicles of the family life of truckers from one of the women's forums are terrifying.

The degree of moral decay of heavy truck drivers can be estimated from the news headlines.

In a den for truck drivers, a two-year-old girl was kept as a prostitute. Little Rita, abducted in Novorossiysk, ended up in a brothel for truck drivers, where the girl was repeatedly raped. >>>

"Live Goods" was detained at the border with Lithuania. In the truck, the border guards found a young prostitute from the Kaliningrad region, whom the driver hid in the luggage compartment. >>>

The driver died while having sex with a prostitute in one of the roadside trucker motels. >>>

Truckers themselves happily joke on the forums that "shoulder" (prostitutes working on the tracks) are the most faithful colleagues and fellow travelers on the road. Most truck drivers are not embarrassed that among the "roadside" priestesses of love, about 30-40% are infected with deadly diseases - hepatitis or HIV.

After the next flight, these people return to their wives, who have been waiting for them for months, and in addition to the money they talk about so often lately, they bring deadly infections home. But when truckers talk about profits and earnings, the argument about the family (a happy wife, well-fed children) comes in handy.

In the side mirror, I can clearly see how the next "UAZ"
trying to get ahead. "Come on, come on," I slow down,
out of the corner of my eye following the car that jumped out from behind the body.

The guy behind the wheel is young, it can be seen, just from the driver's
courses and, carried away by overtaking, does not see at all the one flying towards
"Muscovite". Finally saw! God bless! I throw up the gas to
the zealous carrier quickly stood in line. Not sure, as they say
don't overtake! On the speedometer - 70! However, he is not going to lag behind,
and, stubbornly pushing me to the side of the road, he hopes to slip forward.
Beeps. I found time to play catch-up, his mother ... I dump
speed, I brake sharply and, almost succumbing to the bumper "UAZ"
in the back, I stop the car. On the left, at full speed, an oncoming
"Muscovite". In an instant, the driver turned pale, dumbfounded, squinting at my
loaded with reinforced concrete "KamAZ". Pray guys that the day before
travel brakes with mechanic adjusted! Come home, put
a candle in the church. In general, it’s scary to imagine how it could end
this is recklessness ... Although what am I worried about because of this Schumacher:
he has his own head on his shoulders. Bye.

Having lightly stuck the first gear, I touch the heavy car. Hurry
nowhere. I will arrive in Verkhnerechensk in the morning. I'll sleep like a groundhog
unload and immediately return.

I need to get home this time, more than ever, on time. To the wedding.
Not mine, of course, to a friend. Himself me like an older sister
says you won't get married until retirement. Until retirement, not until retirement, guess
we won’t, but lived to be twenty-five years old, despite the fact that all
my friends, with whom I ran to dances before the army, got married a long time ago,
and some even managed to get a divorce, went in the second round.

On the weekend I will marry Seryoga and stay alone. By mug
beer after the bath there will be no one to drink with - all family ... But so
I just won't give up my bosom friend! I'll take off on Seryogin
wedding in full. Second month in table events
I do not participate - all because of work: business trip after business trip,
And you don't feel very relaxed behind the wheel.

To be honest, Seryoga picked up a bride for himself, not so hot, I
wouldn't bother with something like this. Yes, and he himself, maybe he did not marry her
would, if their relationship with Tamara had not gone too far.
She is in her sixth month.

But her friend is just under my height. The name is Victoria. Vika,
means. When they went to the registry office to apply, all the way cultural
built from myself. So she bowed, and fawned before
bride: oh, Tamara, oh, my only girlfriend, you are only
don't be nervous, please don't worry! Like in a women's clinic
works, not in a factory of technical fabrics. Dressed, of course
you won’t find fault, everything with everything: denim trousers, a bright blouse “am
nature, right on the naked body, that means. Hair - like straw, dyed,
certainly. On the eyelashes a kilogram of mascara. From a distance it seems like nothing
looks, but you look closer, somehow it’s not done by itself:
not a face, but a mask. But these are still flowers. Who would look like her
"Capital" absorbs: cigarette after cigarette, like a man. Sunet
into his painted mouth: and drives, and procrastinates, like toffee,
even talks with a cigarette, only from time to time he releases smoke through his nose.
Young, but early.

"Tomochka! Serezhenka! Ay-yay ... "- and cooing near the young,
and fills with a nightingale, here, they say, how kind I am, what
pretty. And everyone laughs, smiles, shows his sharp teeth.
And with his little eyes squelching in my direction: do not you see, or what?
- I'm trying for you.

After the registry office, I remember, the whole company moved to the restaurant. We drank
as it should. Seryoga and I, of course, vodka, girls
ordered a bottle of champagne. Here she is just like a fox in front of me
came in, and puts me a snack, and lights a cigarette,
I was annoyed that I had zero attention to her. What about me? All for me
anyway, I can, after all, “give from the screw”. I am such "exemplary
shy "I immediately feel. Found the boy! So full of compliments
and I’ll melt, I’ll hurt my forehead in words of love, wait more ... Also pride
I have. Yes, and from the night I. Two days on the road dangled, not up to fun.
True, it was necessary to accompany her anyway. Once he got into the gentlemen,
you're not going anywhere. In short, we ended up near her house. We stood.
We smoked and went to sleep.

Okay, I think to myself, go to sleep, if such a shy of myself
building. You can't go anywhere at a wedding anyway. Didn't break off like that.
Prettier. I don't have time to get into sentimentality.
One fun every day: spin the steering wheel. And I smell of gasoline
- Does not take any cologne. Yes, and eight years behind the wheel is also about something
they say…

After all, after driving school, I sat on the "lawn", so until the very army
didn't get down. The “old woman” was barely breathing, and for three years she ran like a pretty one.
During the service, I had to transfer to a passenger car, the deputy
drove the unit commander, Lieutenant Colonel Tarasov. The man was simple
sociable. Liked to drink. He persuaded him to stay as a re-enlisted man.
He promised to help with the apartment. Yes, apparently, he did not persuade.

After demobilization, I went to a regular bus, to LIAZ.
He was young, he wanted to assert himself. How did you figure out that
why, he moved to the cargo park. Tired of the city, as usual,
spin around. So he ended up on KamAZ. Good car, strong.
Familiar guys from the taxi depot are calling to transfer to the Volzhanka. It's tempting
of course, but not for me: drive from morning to night through the streets so that
click on more rubles, but I need space so that with thoughts
get together.

You fly along the highway, and around the field, as in the picture, there are birch trees,
pines and the sky right up to the horizon. Beauties! Poems to write
I want to. And with cars, as with women, I know how to get along - and those
and others, attention is required, affection, care. You are good with them
and they answer the same. I, so as not to hit my face in the dirt, jeans
I bought branded ones for myself, an imported jacket, high-heeled shoes. Though
and I have no respect for foreign rags, but even without them it is impossible. They won't understand!
The same Vika from the factory of technical fabrics turns her nose on. Found a witness!
Although, on the other hand, it probably doesn't get any better. All of them
on one face, like dolls.

I remember my sister had the same one at her wedding. Marinochka. Bread with a fork
poddevala and two fingers, protruding little finger, held. it
while they sat down at the table, and when they began to leave, they soldered milk
and called an ambulance...

The road sign reads: "Poddybe". Just like in our
area. Our Poddybe, however, is much smaller. And Osinovtsy too
there are both Pereleski and Porechye. All names are repeated. a thousand
rewind kilometers - and suddenly something familiar, dear
heart, like this Poddybya.

And the village is indeed ancient Russian. Huts - like from a fairy tale, with carved
platbands. On a hillock, blackening with domes of dilapidated domes,
the old church peeps out. A hundred years is probably worth it. It's a pity,
inactive, otherwise he would have gone in and lit a candle. Opposite the club
selmag, canteen... Maybe go in for a bite to eat?
somewhere else until the evening.

Poddybe is over. The road went down. Gotta slow down - uneven
hour, some agronomist will jump out on a spree ... And in fact,
Someone is standing by the side of the road. Vote. Yes, I see, I see, don't worry...

Raising clouds of dust, I pull over to the side of the road and stop at two
steps away from the frightened girl who darted away from the car.

- Will you give me a ride to Verkhnerechensk? she screams, trying to open the door.

- Where? I ask, wondering how much it will cost
pleasure: after all, four hundred kilometers.

- Then to Kamnev ...

To Kamnev two hundred and fifty.

- Sit down.

“Only I have no money,” she says without looking at me. And hair
the wind whips her ruthlessly. - Will you deliver?

- Get in, I'll take you! - I agree, not understanding why I was so happy.

Throwing a small handbag forward, the girl quickly climbs
into the cockpit and, slamming the door loudly, although it could have been quieter, carefully
is considering me.

Come on, come on, study! Maybe you'll learn something interesting, so
tell me. Although what can you tell from my cotton shirt
not the first freshness, army trousers, dusty kirzach? Ordinary
drove. hard worker. There is no one to show off ... I look older than my own
years - so again there are reasons: he was wrapped up in constant traveling,
and shave, comb your hair once. And he himself, dear, would be glad to rinse
key water, but only where to find this key, if around
one dust and fog? Any more questions? No. Then look to yourself
affectionate, on the road, but you don’t need to look askance at me. And say thank you
good uncle that planted ...

“What, you don’t have a penny at all?”

- There is a little - the girl tries to get a wallet out of her purse.
- But it’s still not enough to Verkhnerechensk, and to Kamnev too
will not be enough…

Well, tell me, please, who goes on the road without money?
Yes, even so far away? Okay, I planted the generosity of the soul. Who
the other will meet - will bring in the bushes, turn off the engine and say:
“Come on, pay up, my dear! Or go pedestrian!

And then it dawned on me: but this is what she needs! Is it decent
the girl will start voting without money on a ride? .. There are men in the garage
talked about such fellow travelers. Sit in the cab and drive instead
wives. I don't have a family, I don't want to work, but here everything is busy. You look
summer rolls by, not knowing need, care, but by autumn somewhere
will settle in the boiler room. Drivers are kind people, they will feed, drink, take a nap.
In short, not life, but romance. Our brother calls them shoulder ones, because
how they sit all the way near your shoulder.

Out of the corner of my eye I squint at my fellow traveler: sitting, shy, purse on
holding her knees, all so thoughtful of herself ... Come on, come on,
pretend while my hands are busy with the steering wheel, I'll get to the parking lot
before you - just hold on!

“Let’s get to know each other,” I smile cheekily. - Semyon.

- Masha, - she turns her face to me, and I am satisfied
I notice that the shoulder one came across to me pretty. nineteen years old,
not more. Taking out cigarettes, I treat:

- Do you smoke?

“Tell me,” I strike a match, and for a moment I
I can’t believe that she has shoulders: she’s too clean, and her hair is smooth,
caught by the tail. And the construction team jacket is embarrassing! Although,
maybe she put it on to divert her eyes? Hangs "noodles" on the ears, Masha
from Uralmash! Now there are no such names. Shoulder! Oh my god, shoulder.

Rogozhino, spread out along the road, appeared ahead. Familiar
places. Strong log five-walls, a brick shop building,
school, church again. After Rogozhin the road went through the forest. Pulled
chill and pine. Breathe - don't breathe. Burning raspberry
the sun was tangled in the branches of huge pines, announcing the approach
twilight. There were almost no oncoming cars, and I was dusting in the middle
roads at top speed.

“So you need to get to Verkhnerechensk?” Consider yourself there.

“Thank you,” the fellow traveler replied, and after a pause, she added: “But then
I need to go back to Poddybe. You don't happen back
will you go?

“I’ll go by chance,” I chuckled. - Unload - and back. yes you
don't worry, Masha, everything will be like in the best houses in London and Paris.

– Have you been to London and Paris?

- Not yet. I have a saying.

If before these words I still doubted whether she had a shoulder or not, then,
having learned that she needed to return back, I realized: just a shoulder!

“Enough, girl, to build two of yourself!” - almost broke
me, but I said nothing. Everything has its time.

So we drove. Pending. Without talking or trying to start
no one wants a conversation. Everyone thought about their own. What was I thinking
it's not hard to guess. Masha was probably thinking the same thing. so me
it seemed.

In order to somehow distract myself from such thoughts, I turned on the receiver.
There was news on the Mayak. A road ran behind the glass, on both sides
which stretches to the horizon a clay field. Above the field
black militant rooks circled in anticipation of rain. They are loud
shouted as if before the end of the world. And then it sounded on the receiver
poignant, saddening melody. Violent gusts erupted from
general mood, as if moving away and smoothly returning back.
The melody touched on something dear, deep, and, listening eagerly
into it, I madly squeezed the steering wheel braided with colored wire.

The music stopped, and Masha, who was sitting motionless beside him, said insinuatingly:

- This is Sibelius ... "Sad Waltz" by Jean Sibelius.

- Sibelius, - as if trying to remember an unfamiliar surname, he asked
I didn't hear that.

“A very famous Finnish composer,” the girl perked up and became
talk about him.

The headlights snatched out the highway wet from the rain, and Masha inspired
revealed to me the secret charms of his music. She said,
but I listened and believed her, never once doubting the veracity of what she said.
And when she finally stopped talking, he didn't know what to say.

"Wipers" crawled lazily across the glass, and it was then covered with rainy
drizzle, it became clean. I peered into the darkness of the night
and drove hard. Masha was dozing. I saw pecking at the door
her head. But she didn't want to worry. And yet, I quietly asked:

- Tell me, please, how do you know everything? Me too a quarter of a century
I live in the world, but I have never heard anything like this ...

- You can live a hundred years of plant life and learn nothing! ..
Only without music, this life will still be incomplete ...

“Wow,” I thought. - Inferior ... So, Vika from the factory
technical fabrics, and I myself have a vegetative, inferior life,
and this snub-nosed girl has a full-fledged one! .. And we, naive,
we rejoice that we take everything from life ... It turns out that we rejoice in vain! Defective
our life!..".

I remembered Victoria smoking cigarettes, and for some reason I felt sorry
her ... In vain, of course, she smokes, it would be better if she listened to music ... And herself
felt sorry...

“Is this knowledge,” Masha continued. - Here is our head of the department
Ibragim Shalvovich really knows a lot about music theory...
He can talk about music all day, but how Rachmaninoff plays! ..

So you're still learning!

- In the third year of a music school, but what?

- Nothing!

"Here's your shoulder, damn it!"

In the gap between the trees, the first lights of Kamnev appeared - a small
district town on the way to Verkhnerechensk. Oncoming cars mercilessly
blinded my eyes, and every time I had to huddle to the side of the road.
To be honest, I was already exhausted to such an extent that if
alone in the car, I would have turned to the side of the road long ago and fell asleep.
But Masha chirped nearby. And I held on, imperceptibly rubbing my eyes
palm.

I stopped only near the station cafeteria, which, if
to believe the schedule, worked around the clock. Masha anxiously asked:

- Where are we?

- In Kamenev.

– What time is it now?

- Half past eleven. Let's go have a bite? - taking the girl
hand, I was surprised how warm her hand was.

"Let's go," she said softly.

The spacious barn-like dining room smelled of something burnt.
There were no attendants, but from the kitchen
it was clear to the voices that there were still living people here. standing near
cash registers and studying a short, three-course, handwritten menu,
I looked through the last door. She creaked, and those who were bored at the stove
the women shuddered in fear.

- Hello, aunties! I said, watching how gradually
they come to their senses. - Can I have a bite to eat?

Despite midnight, we were fed excellently. Apparently, not in vain here
diesel locomotive drivers come in between shifts: hot Ukrainian
borscht, cutlets with buckwheat porridge, kissel. Masha sat opposite
me, and I saw her tired gray eyes, her bangs falling over her forehead.

The women from the kitchen were standing nearby and, it seemed to me, with undisguised
studied us with curiosity. Out of the corner of my ear, I even heard what they were talking about:

- Tea, husband and wife ...

- Who knows. Tapericha once you figure it out ... There is my niece,
no more than eighteen, but already blonde with a gentleman ...

- Nadya, right? early girl...

- So I say, mother's milk on the lips has not yet dried up ...

- And these, apparently, are not from here ...

- Aliens.

Leaving the dining room and seating myself comfortably in the cab, I turned the key
ignition, tiredly squeezed the clutch, and we rushed into the darkness. On the
I didn't watch my companion. Taking advantage of this, Masha closed her eyes.
and dozed off. But she didn't have to sleep. “I’m also a mistress,” thought
I. “She attacked the wrong one.”

- If only I could sing something! I said rudely.

She looked up in surprise and, taking my request for a joke,
closed again.

- Sing, I say! I repeated. - In vain, or what, are you studying in a music school ?!
And then something makes me sleepy! Sing! I kindly ask...

- And what will be worse?

- Nothing. I'll pull over and go to sleep.

She said nothing. And I thought it was time to move from words to deeds.
I'm not cast iron either. Found a fool and go. And then it happened
miracle: leaning forward with his whole body and looking into the dank cold
Far away, Masha sang, softly, softly, as if to herself:

The Indian summer has died away, the Indian summer has rang, Having confused happiness somewhere with a cobweb, And today the cranes have gathered in a flock And say goodbye, flying away for a long time ...

Something seemed to shrink inside me, and a cold unbearable longing
because of something inaccessible and expensive, my chest filled up ...

And today the cranes have gathered in a flock And say goodbye, flying away for a long time ...

Masha sang. And I was squeezing the steering wheel to the pain in my hands, as if I was afraid,
that the machine will lift off the ground and soar into the starry sky.

One song was replaced by another, but it did not get any easier.
I felt uneasy. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.
The stellar attraction continued to operate.

So we got to Verkhnerechensk.

The city was asleep. Night streets were drowning in the smells of July greenery. as if
unsolved cells of crossword puzzles, burning windows of landings
in similar block houses. Masha lived in one of them.

- Senya, are you really going back today?

- Truth.

I realized that we are landing ...

- Will you take me with you?

- Necessarily.

“Then stop, please, near this house.

I stopped the car. Masha jumped to the ground:

- How long will you be expected?

- At half past two…

The girl disappeared like a dream.

Squeezing the clutch, I rushed like crazy down a deserted street.

The base for the assembly of reinforced concrete products was located on the outskirts
city, and I, turning off the engine away from the gate, collapsed on
side. The road was pretty tired, and I slept, as they say, without back
feet, until there was a knock on the cockpit:

- Hey, comrade! Oversleep the whole kingdom of heaven! - heavy as a deck,
a middle-aged woman pounded hard on the door.

- Something happened?

- Alive, I think? The car is parked but the driver is not...

I looked at my watch: half past one! Can't be!

- Auntie, how long is your gold?

“Half-thirty, uncle!”

That's how I slept! Now we urgently need to unload and fly for Masha!
Thoughts about a fellow traveler did not leave me even in a dream.

I flew into the base, dragging incredible clouds of dust behind me. It seemed
the earth itself is burning under the wheels. Looking for the best way to land
to the gantry crane, I, effortlessly with a steering wheel, rushed between the stacks
jumpers and ceilings, right under the slings hanging on the hook.

The crane operator, as I expected, of course, was not there. Didn't show up
she, and after I honked stubbornly for three minutes,
bulgacha around the whole district.

"That's bad luck!" I cursed the crane operator. And not to lose
valuable time, hastily rushed to the office with invoices.
I got lucky there. Exclusively everyone on whom the signing depended
papers were in place. But the crane operator did not appear. I was running around
in her search throughout the base, asking everyone she met where she
may be. Nobody knew. The workers shrugged their shoulders, and only
one woman suggested that Zina was going to
linger - there is no one to leave the granddaughter with. She has windmill...

The hands of the clock were at half-past three, and I had no choice
nothing else but to drive in an unloaded car to the waiting
me Masha. However, the janitor, strictly guarding the gate, as
I didn’t beg, I didn’t agree to release the car with reinforced concrete.
I had to go to the head of the base for permission. I ran up the stairs
both the corridors and me, it seemed that I simply could not stand such a rhythm.

It goes without saying that when I taxied to the appointed place,
There was no car. She did not appear in ten or fifteen
minutes. And I thought she just lied to me.

At half past five I drove home.

The empty car went easily. And, according to my calculations, it turned out that
in the morning I have to stand in the garage. Ten minutes walk to the house.
And ... tomorrow they are waiting for me at the wedding! ..

I'll put on branded jeans, imported jacket, shoes and show up
as they say, from the ship to the ball ...

I already clearly imagined all this, as suddenly inside me
some familiar sad melody sounded ... Its smoothly flowing
sounds and capricious, with a break, unstable rhythm grew. I became
remember it, and, growing cold with surprise, I realized that it was
"Sad waltz" by Sibelius, about which Masha spoke... I don't
I forgot it... I didn't forget it!

Angrily squeezing the gas pedal to the stop, I drove the car to the limit
speed. And the road, squeezed on both sides by those who have waved to the very
the sky with trees, parted under the headlights ...