During the '70s, I struggled as a single mother to feed my three young children. Child support was non-existent from their absent father. I would not ever be satisfied to be a stay-at-home welfare mom, so I went to work at a handful of jobs: bartending, retail sales, massage therapist. All in the hopes of keeping my sinking raft afloat.

I swim like a rock. Actually, more like a large, heavy boulder that immediately sinks to the ocean floor. I cannot even tread water, so I fought hard to bail from my sinking vessel. A friend told me about a job opening as a telephone repair person. I interviewed and was hired. Life was good. I could pay the rent and feed the kids.

During my tenure as a repair person, I held multiple positions. The final station had me sitting at a conveyor belt, drilling out old filthy handsets in preparation for an adaptor that would allow the handsets to be made modular. The quotas were mandated and unachievable as far as I could tell. Only a robot would be able to keep up, with any sort of quality. I was miserable.

One day at lunch, a woman approached and asked how much I made an hour. "It ain't enough," I retorted. "Well, I make good money," was her immediate response. By the end of the hour, I had the name and information of the local Teamster's Union, and had a clear mission in mind.

I can drive. In fact, I love to drive. When I was stressed, I would load the kids into the car, and would go for a drive up the canyon, to a park, or just driving around looking at "nice" houses. Convincing the Teamster's Union that I was a prime candidate for their Teamster's Training Program, was not as easy as telling them I enjoyed driving. It took three visits to the Union Hall, and many scowling old male faces continuously attempted to convince me to stay with the job I held. Afterall, it was indoors. It was not outside in the elements. I was a female with waist-length hair, long pink nails, and a 115 lb. frame. How could the men at the union possibly take me seriously when I said I wanted to be a Teamster in the '70s?

Tenacity is a prime characteristic in the repetoire of most single moms. It is my most favored and prized behavior. Eventually, I convinced the Union to train me to drive, provoded I could find a company willing to hire me once that training was completed. The caveat, I'm certain, was their insurance that I would never return. Being headstrong and determined, I went to every union job in the state until I found someone willing to agree to hire me if the Teamsters trained me. I was elated.

Soon, I was perched in the seat of an old Mack truck, grinding through two gear shifting knobs, driving in circle in a vacant field. When I wasn't in the truck, I was either in the classroom, or in the books. Eventually, I advanced to an 18-wheeler, Kenworth truck, and to driving on the back roads. When it was time to take the truck to the Dept. of Motor Vehicles, I was petrified. "I'm not ready," I protested. I took the test anyway, and even parallel-parked my truck with the grace of a ballerina. Now, I wasa real Teamster!

Soon, I was working 72 hours weekly, spending time at home either sleeping, or taking my kids to the drive-in movies (where I could sleep as they watched the movie). I earned more money than I could ever have imagined. I was not only earning a good living, I was earning the respect of the traditional men who watched and waited for me to make a mistake. They tried to break me like a wild filly.

For the most part, things were great. There were a few instances of blatant sexual abuse, and there was one attempt made of my life. There was a wife who came onto the job site to see the woman driver. That, and many other stories will be left for future hubs. One day, I may write the actual memoires of a "Mother-Trucker," but for now, I will end by saying that the job gave me far more than it ever took. I learned that my small 115 lb frame could be as strong and effective as any burly man, as long as I learned to use all my strength. I learned to use my physical strength, but more importantly, I learned to use my emotional strength and my personal power. The rewards are plentiful. And although I have now enjoyed many blessings, nothing in my life will ever be as personally empowering than having joined the ranks of the Teamsters.