Truck drivers from some have a bad name out here on the highway. Not all truckers are disrespectful or discourteous to other people on the road. Four wheelers have the reputation of being a bad driver also. The stories that I’ll post here are about some of the life and times of a truck driver.

A Truckers Story

   Hello. My name is Wayne. I'm called ‘Gypsy’ on the CB. I'm a truck driver per one of my trades. I'm a 57-year-old, 5'4", 190 lb truck driving, bull spreading, ratchet jawing gear jammer.  I have a head full of hair and shave every third day. I attribute that little goody to my Indian heritage. I have blue eyes and brown hair. I pick at the guitar, violin and harmonica. I can't sing and I know it. Otherwise I'd not be doing this for a living. I write a lot of poems. Most everyone that reads them, say they enjoy them. I enjoy driving a semi truck for a living. Even though I have a master mechanics license for cars, boats and motorcycles. I also have a degree in Electronics Technology. I grew up roofing with my dad using hot tar and shingles.

  I love to build things. Only I can't even cut a straight line with a skill saw. So, I can live with what I make if it's only me seeing it. If I had to build them to sell, I'd starve.

   I travel a lot of the country picking up and delivering freight from and to many companies. To do this type of work, you really have to be a nomad. With being away from home for 6 days to a month at a time, it can put a strain on any relationship. But doing a ten-year tour in the service taught me how to be away.

   When you travel the road for a living, you see things that most people don't get or need to see. Things like when you see an accident when children are involved. Our young teens all dressed up lying on the roadway. Or a little child’s pet. Or how it makes me feel when a bird flies into my truck. These things bother me, but they're not the worst things I've seen out here.

   When I first started driving in civilian life, I drove a fuel tanker in the military for a time, and I wasn't truck savvy, I had what was called a round robin. I'd pick up at Chicago O’Hara Airport and take it to JFK Airport in Jamaica, NY. I'd off load there, go to Brooklyn, NY and pick up a load for Corsicana, TX. Off load and then go to Dallas Fort Worth Airport for a pick up to take back to O’Hara. Then I'd start the cycle again. I really enjoyed that run. About the second time I made the trip I was going east over Snowshoe, Pa when I lost my brakes. Snowshoe is the highest elevation point east of the Mississippi. Back then we had no power steering or power brakes. We used brake fluid like a car did. As I started down the hill and lost my brake, I guarantee you I was afraid. I had a floor load of 40000 lbs and no way to stop it. Snowshoe is seven miles long on a winding road from top to bottom. My speed kept increasing as the tires were screaming and I was fighting the steering with all I had. I was using all my driving ability to keep the truck up right.  Part way down the hill I had a cop pull up behind me. He put on his lights and then got on the CB radio and said, "Ok driver, pull it over." I grabbed my mike and told him as soon as I can get it stopped, I will." He came back with, "No brakes?" I fought the truck around another curve and finally got to the mike again and told him, "Yes sir. I guess I'm riding this rocket to hell." He came back with, "Do you want me in front to clear a path or what?" I told him, "No sir. Just run the siren and follow me down. I down want to take you out too if I lose it. Just pick up the pieces." He came back with, "Good luck son. And may God bless." I fought the steering for all I had. The tires were screaming, the siren was wailing. Other truckers kept telling me I better pull over cause I had a bear on my back door. Smokey pasted the word to them of no brakes. They started calling ahead about a runaway. I had all the support, but I had to drive it. I heard two different drivers say I'd never make the curve at the bottom. Three quarters of the way down, the officer told me we were doing 109mph and gaining. I figured that about the speed from my speedometer being wrapped back around to zero. It only went to eighty. Well, I rode it out and never hit a thing. When I was able to finally stop, I reached into my sleeper and got a change. I got out of the truck. Went around front and over the guardrail. After I changed my pants I came back up and the officer was standing there and told me, "Sir I want to commend you on your driving. I really didn't think you'd make it. I would shake your hand but maybe later after you wash." That's when I sat down and cried. I had looked death in the face and won, this time. He never gave me a ticket or anything. I told him I was staying put till my brakes were cold. He told me, "This is one time I can say I have seen a miracle. You're the first one that I've seen make it without brakes." Word spread and as a lot of the trucks went by, they blew their horns and gave me a thumbs up as they went by. I was glad to be alive.

C.J.Beige

24 Apr 09