Keith A. Hamblin
April 27, 1996
My youngest son said the other day that he wants to be a truck driver when he grows up. It reminded me of a couple of songs, "Cats in the Cradle" and "Giddy up Go Daddy". It also reminded me of how I felt about my dad when I was a kid. Back then I thought that a man wasn't a man unless he was just like my dad. Of course then I became a teenager and didn't want anything to do with him. Well, besides hunting, fishing and borrowing his pickup.
I looked at my son expecting some smart allec remark like I am ashamed to admit he is all to familiar with hearing from me. None came and I got to tell you I had to turn my head because I could feel that warm burn starting to build in my eyes. Looking into that little blue eyed, freckle specked kid's face was like looking into a mirror at myself some 30 years ago.
I have done a lot of thinking about it since that day. Besides turning me into an emotional fool whenever no one is looking, it has made me realize a few things about myself and about this industry.
I have driven a whole lot of miles in the last 18 years. I have seen a whole lot of places and things, and I have met a whole lot of people. If I have learned anything for sure it is that trucking is a hard life. Not just on the driver but on those kids and spouses who always seem to be waiting for him or her. I know parents who are divorced with joint custody and they see their kids more than the average trucker does. Me included, and I'm a local driver now.
There is some things that set us apart; not above, but apart from that guy in the office. The most obvious is that the average trucker is a loner. Some would say a maverick which might not be far from the truth; but it boils down to the fact that we prefer our own company to that of anyone else's. Don't get me wrong, we love our families and our friends. Life without them would be unbearable but at the same time we can only take so much 'social gracing' before we have to hit the steering wheel and run away from it all for just a little while. Amazingly, once we do get alone much of our thought is spent thinking of the things we should have said and regretting some of the things we did say. We are not home to help those kids through some of the most difficult times of a childs life. When we do get home we have such a short time to teach or correct that we often get a little carried away with how we do it. This is not because we are uncaring or strict disciplinarians. It is also not because our kids are so much worse than we were as kids. Truth be known, I am one lucky man. My kids have their problems but compared to me at their age, well let's just say that I am one lucky man..
The same goes for spouses. Truckers who can stay married have some of the most understanding spouses in the world. I will have been with my wife for 14 years this June 25th. You want to talk about understanding? If God gives bonus points for putting up with crap from your spouse this woman is going to be translated directly to heaven any minute now. Every thing my kids have missed in their relationship with me they have gained with their mother. She has put up with my bad attitude and the smell of diesel so long that she now thinks I smell funny if I don't splash on a little diesel before I walk in the house. She's also a great translator. I tell the kids,
"YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN AND I'LL KNOCK YOU CLEAR INTO NEXT WEEK!"
And my wife intuitively knows that in 'truckereze' , what I am really saying is,
"Hey kid! I love you but this thing you are doing is detrimental to your future as a respected member of society and it will be extremely pleasing to me if you try to refrain from doing it ever again?!"
It used to bother me when my wife would translate for me. For one thing I didn't understand that what she was doing was translating. I thought I really meant,
"Hey kid, YOU WANT ME TO TAKE OFF MY BELT?"
In the early years she would wait until I was gone before she translated for me but I started noticing that everytime I would try to correct the kids they would instantly look at their mother. She would nervously glance at me then hold up her hand to let them know that she would tell them later. Now that I know what she was doing I have to check with her myself. Every time I make some correctional statement to the kids I instantly look at my wife to find out what the heck it was I just said. She's been trying to get me to let her translate before I say it to the kids but I'm a little thick and I always seem to forget..
Trucking also has it's good points and I figure it is about time I reminded myself of some of them.. The thing about truckers is that in just about every way that counts, we are just like everyone else. We have a job to do, we have bills to pay and we have kids to feed. Our dreams are not so different from the ones that guy in the office has and when it comes down to it we are just trying to live that "American Dream" the same as he is.
So what are some of those good points? I have driven a whole lot of miles in the last 18 years. I have seen a whole lot of places and things, and I have met a whole lot of people...... I will tell my son that I would be proud if he were to follow in my footsteps and I pray I am around to teach him when not to mash the gas and how to change a fuel filter on a dark, deserted Wyoming freeway...
Here is a song I wrote myself a few years ago. I tried to sell it to Willie Nelson but I found out that the money he spends on front door security is well spent.
He rode in,
on a great white horse.
And he spoke,
with a soft, gentle voice.
Now he's gone,
and I don't know where.
But it seems like,
nobody really cares.
He was born,
on a hot summer day.
The wind blowin',
and the smell of hay.
His pappa was gone,
and his momma was alone.
And he was cursed,
with the need to roam.
CHORUS
Ridin' rainbows and chasin' dreams.
Cowboy where's your home?
Ridin' rainbows and chasin' dreams.
Lonesome cowboy find your home.
The years went by,
and he grew older.
He got bigger,
and his heart grew bolder.
His momma died,
and left him alone.
He never cried though,
he just left home.
As he rode,
he learned about life.
And one day,
he even took a wife.
It didn't last though,
cuz he couldn't sit still.
They had a son,
and she named me Will.
I was born,
on a hot summer day.
The wind blowin',
and the smell of hay...............
I lost my dad when I was 14 years old. Not to a truck or a grave but to a bottle of beer. When I was 21 I lost him permanently to a bottle of vodka and a self inflicted gunshot wound. I love him. I miss him and I am still pissed at him. God willing, I will know my grandkids and maybe their kids too...