Trucking: It’s a brotherhood
I know that most editorials are opinions on pressing issues in the news today. But I also know there’s no shortage of opinions in today’s social media or 24-hour news cycle.
Opinions are everywhere, and most just breed hate and discontent. There is so much hate and anger it’s becoming mind-numbing.
So, this time, I am taking a different approach. I was watching a rerun of “My Name is Earl,” and the episode was about writing your story to put yourself in a happy place and escape from the nagging things in life every once in a while. I started thinking, what would be my happy story?
I thought about growing up and, as a little kid, riding my pony without a care. Moving on to high school and old girlfriends and first dates. Valentine’s Day 1992, when I joined the U.S. Army. Graduating and progressing to adulthood.
Then I thought about my lifelong love of trucking. I was a 22-year-old dumb kid who had a collie dog and a CB. I bought a truck and a trailer and was living hand to mouth. But I was chasing my dream!
Wow, what a ride it has been. I, like many sisters and brothers of the road, have seen our nation from Shaky to Dirty Side. New England leaves, Texas bluebonnets, D.C. cherry blossoms, snow in the Rockies and the eerie fog of the early mornings in the Blue Ridge. I have been on Vale, Cabbage, Donner, Fancy Gap, Jericho and Monteagle. I’ve had deliveries and pickups in the Apple, Beantown, the Circle, the Motor, the Shaky, the Bright Lights and so many more.
But as I pondered my life on the road, I got to thinking about the important things and what means the most to me in my memories. Simply, it comes down to the people – the brotherhood.
Snowman and Bandit made me want to be a trucker when I was 4 or 5. First truck I ever rode in was my dad’s Transtar II hauling iron to the East Coast with his buddy, Toad. As I started driving, I had folks like Big Daddy and Wolfman help me get started on my way. I got a gig trashing around to NYC, running across 80 with Magoo, Puner, JR, Mustang, Red Dog, Energizer, Hot Rod, Underdog, Skeeter, 007 and all the other KT Gang. Then there was that Pennsytucky Smokey The Marauder. As my trucking job changed, it was off to Texas with Fatboy, Gutterball and Coal Mine.
I also cannot leave out Fuzz Buster, Big Red, El Toro and Red Rover. Hats off to Deadheader for preaching the word and giving truckers faith. And finally, I get to my late friend, Hardtimes. Oh boy, the fun we had and the places we’ve been. Together, we ran so many back roads and highways all across this land. We also spent a lot of time corrupting my best friend, Pig Pen.
Life is like trucking. It isn’t about the miles or the places we’ve been. It’s about all the friends we made along the way.
Some of us never even knew each other’s real name, but we were friends just the same. I know I left out many of my friends thanks to word limits. But that doesn’t mean you’re not in my thoughts.
In the end, the brotherhood of trucking is the happy place in my fond memories. It’s the long nights running down the highway just ratchet-jawing about everything – family, trucks and even life’s mysteries – while playing hide-and-seek from Smokey Bear. We haven’t ever seen each other again out on the black ribbon, but for 500 miles, we were best friends. LL