IN A NUTSHELL

Mile Marker #5

I found this essay awhile back, and I thought it was a good time to share it with you. This was written by the wife of a truck driver after he was killed in an accident. The essay was published by Ann Landers back in 1993. Enjoy!


ESSAY ON TRUCKERS

Truckers are found on highways, in truck stops, in service bays, on loading docks, on bush roads, and at fuel stops. And often they are the first at the scene of an accident.
Their wives help them, little boys follow them, relatives don't understand them, meals must wait for them, but nothing can stop them.
A trucker is a paradox. He is blue-jeaned executive with his office in his cab. He is a scientist who hauls dangerous chemicals and explosives; a purchasing agent in a baseball cap; a personal director with grease under his fingernails; a poor eater with a fondness for burgers and fries; a student of geography and a weather watcher who reads the clouds for rain or snow.
He likes sunshine, children, smooth pavement, good traction, clean loads, dinner at home, weekends with his family, his shirt collar unbuttoned and country music. And there is a special place in his heart for his rig.
He's not too fond of city traffic, tourists who are rotten drivers, fuel prices, dispatchers, snarly receivers, kids in high-powered cars or drunk drivers
Nobody else gets as much satisfaction out of talking about trucks, truckers, gear shifting, good weather, homemade pies, strong coffee, kids, wives, sweethearts, and the price of diesel.
He is your friend and your customer. He is your source of food, building products, clothing, petroleum, natural resources; in fact, nearly everything in your life arrives in his truck.
And when he comes home at night after a tiring trip, the energy sapped from his hopes and dreams, he can be lifted up once more by those magic words "Daddy's Home!"


-Piccadilly

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