No one knows where I am today. North Palette, Rising Fawn, or even Out West. Nobody knows If I'm alive, dead, in a ditch, or turned over on the side of somebody's embankment. Sometimes, it's a sad thought, not gonna lie. But peace of mind is something you just can't put a price tag on. And as I stand here at the nose of my truck thinking to myself, do you want to know what I came up with?
That it ain't so bad. Hells, honestly? I kind of like it.
For the first time today, I smiled and cast my gaze outwards. Outwards past the reds, blues, and orange semi's of all makes and models hauling everything from basic cattle, to whole excavators. Those drivers are chasing that good ole American Dream one mile and one load at a time. Looking on long past the rolling plains of boundless beauty at the fiery mix of pink and orange burning away at the dawn's coming. Back home, I might not be anyone. But out here? I'm just another guy with eighteen wheels carrying eighty thousand pounds worth of hopes and dreams.
I climb into my truck, and set my GPS because lord knows I'm going somewhere I've never been again, and I'll need every last angel I can muster riding with me today. Magic, that's my truck by the way, and I ease our way out the truck stop parking lot and merge onto the road to get on another major artery known as the highway.
We gain speed slowly, but as effectively as we can. Oh how many people loathe your very existence just for trying to do your job. Cars see you as a slow moving hindrance. Dispatch says the load needs to be there ASAP because they've got another for you, and mister Motor Carrier Police can stop you just because he feels like it. Mister Officer, I'm just a simple man like you with places to be, and people to see. But I enjoyed the ride, grabbing all eighteen gears to let the people hear the song of my people. Because Magic and I are gonna sing it loud and proud.
The way I see it? I'm a Cowboy. Might not be running from the law every waking minute of my life or chasing cattle, but I've got a trusty steed by my side who won't let me down. I take good care of her, and she takes good care of me. And yes, that does come with its fair share of gentle sweet talking when she's been stubborn. I tip my hat to the ladies, while the men wonder how the heck my tiny behind operates such a large vehicle with expert precision and finesse.
Then there are times where I think of myself like Santa Clause: delivering goods left right and center. Except these are ones that keep society going and occasionally provide entertainment and amusement. It's a good feeling when you stand before a newly built hospital and say: "I help build that." The results fill me with pride. Even if it's something so miniscule, it's just another reason I keep on waking up daily to do this job, and why I enjoy it so much.
Do you know what else it does for me? When you're bored out of your mind and swear you've seen the same tree five times over going down the highway. You look down to your left because there's another car overtaking you only to find a happy and energetic child waving their arms to grab your attention and do the signature arm pump. So I lay on the big horn and give that kid the best send off they're gonna get today while thanking them for showing some appreciation. It's the little things, ya know?
Funny how everyone banks on the kid who always slept in class not making much out of themselves. But between thirty plus states and nine different countries? I think it's safe to say that I've got the best seat in the house. And that's what makes me happy. Day in and day out I watch the world change right before my eyes. From taking on the winding narrows of the Pigeon River Gorge on I-40, to rocketing down Vail Pass. Gasping at the rock formations in Nevada, to watch a flurry of brightly colored leaves bounce away from my truck as I cruise into New Hampshire one Autumn day. Confirming just how powerful those storms in the Great Plains really are, brewing as far as the eye can see, to passing through one city that changes the terrain from mountains to flatlands. I'm looking at you, Denver.
It's a shame what comes to mind when you've got six hundred miles to cover, and ten hours to do it. That's why I keep in contact with other drivers fighting traffic, missing home, and talking about how great trucking used to be. There might not be a campfire surrounding us but we're all in it together. Trying to help each other get there one mile at a time. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be turning these tires right now. I say that to say: I'm pretty happy with my road family.
But I'll also get those calls from my home family too. So and so had a baby, a cousin's getting married, and of course "When do you plan on settling down?" I just grin and tell them I won't. I've seen a lot, but I ain't seen it all. Some never leave their own city. Some never make it off of their front porch. Guess that means I'm living for several people, just as they're living for me.
Ten years long, ten years strong. I am and will always be the nomad. Even when I pull my air brakes for my last, final time. I can gaze at the horizon and find another semi still easing along into the sunset. A piece of me going with them.
That it ain't so bad. Hells, honestly? I kind of like it.
For the first time today, I smiled and cast my gaze outwards. Outwards past the reds, blues, and orange semi's of all makes and models hauling everything from basic cattle, to whole excavators. Those drivers are chasing that good ole American Dream one mile and one load at a time. Looking on long past the rolling plains of boundless beauty at the fiery mix of pink and orange burning away at the dawn's coming. Back home, I might not be anyone. But out here? I'm just another guy with eighteen wheels carrying eighty thousand pounds worth of hopes and dreams.
I climb into my truck, and set my GPS because lord knows I'm going somewhere I've never been again, and I'll need every last angel I can muster riding with me today. Magic, that's my truck by the way, and I ease our way out the truck stop parking lot and merge onto the road to get on another major artery known as the highway.
We gain speed slowly, but as effectively as we can. Oh how many people loathe your very existence just for trying to do your job. Cars see you as a slow moving hindrance. Dispatch says the load needs to be there ASAP because they've got another for you, and mister Motor Carrier Police can stop you just because he feels like it. Mister Officer, I'm just a simple man like you with places to be, and people to see. But I enjoyed the ride, grabbing all eighteen gears to let the people hear the song of my people. Because Magic and I are gonna sing it loud and proud.
The way I see it? I'm a Cowboy. Might not be running from the law every waking minute of my life or chasing cattle, but I've got a trusty steed by my side who won't let me down. I take good care of her, and she takes good care of me. And yes, that does come with its fair share of gentle sweet talking when she's been stubborn. I tip my hat to the ladies, while the men wonder how the heck my tiny behind operates such a large vehicle with expert precision and finesse.
Then there are times where I think of myself like Santa Clause: delivering goods left right and center. Except these are ones that keep society going and occasionally provide entertainment and amusement. It's a good feeling when you stand before a newly built hospital and say: "I help build that." The results fill me with pride. Even if it's something so miniscule, it's just another reason I keep on waking up daily to do this job, and why I enjoy it so much.
Do you know what else it does for me? When you're bored out of your mind and swear you've seen the same tree five times over going down the highway. You look down to your left because there's another car overtaking you only to find a happy and energetic child waving their arms to grab your attention and do the signature arm pump. So I lay on the big horn and give that kid the best send off they're gonna get today while thanking them for showing some appreciation. It's the little things, ya know?
Funny how everyone banks on the kid who always slept in class not making much out of themselves. But between thirty plus states and nine different countries? I think it's safe to say that I've got the best seat in the house. And that's what makes me happy. Day in and day out I watch the world change right before my eyes. From taking on the winding narrows of the Pigeon River Gorge on I-40, to rocketing down Vail Pass. Gasping at the rock formations in Nevada, to watch a flurry of brightly colored leaves bounce away from my truck as I cruise into New Hampshire one Autumn day. Confirming just how powerful those storms in the Great Plains really are, brewing as far as the eye can see, to passing through one city that changes the terrain from mountains to flatlands. I'm looking at you, Denver.
It's a shame what comes to mind when you've got six hundred miles to cover, and ten hours to do it. That's why I keep in contact with other drivers fighting traffic, missing home, and talking about how great trucking used to be. There might not be a campfire surrounding us but we're all in it together. Trying to help each other get there one mile at a time. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be turning these tires right now. I say that to say: I'm pretty happy with my road family.
But I'll also get those calls from my home family too. So and so had a baby, a cousin's getting married, and of course "When do you plan on settling down?" I just grin and tell them I won't. I've seen a lot, but I ain't seen it all. Some never leave their own city. Some never make it off of their front porch. Guess that means I'm living for several people, just as they're living for me.
Ten years long, ten years strong. I am and will always be the nomad. Even when I pull my air brakes for my last, final time. I can gaze at the horizon and find another semi still easing along into the sunset. A piece of me going with them.
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