I drive a truck for my living, and I have hauled everything from frozen chicken to steel beams, coast to coast, in storms and heat waves. You dont see my name in the limelight, and that’s fine; I’m not here for the fame; I’m in this because I know what it means to keep things moving, and I love this job.
Most of my days start even before the sun rises. I wake up in my cab parked behind a love’s or a pilot’s, brush my teeth in a truck stop bathroom, and hit the road with coffee, which tastes very much like burnt hopes. My life runs on DOT clocks, GPS routes, weigh stations, and the constant hum of the engine beneath my seat. Sometimes, I’ll find a decent sandwich and a clean shower before I rack up another 600 miles.
To most folks, I’m just another semi on the road. Maybe even a nuisance. But here’s the truth: nearly everything in your life got to you on a truck. The food you eat, the clothes you wear, and even the smartphone that you are reading this on come from a truck. I might’ve delivered it to a warehouse three states away, and you never saw me, but I am the reason why you had these things in the first place. I’m not trying to brag or act as if I am the only one responsible, but I make things happen by delivering them and taking care of the goods behind my truck is what matters to me on the road.
This job is never easy; you’re alone a lot of times. The road gets quiet, and you miss birthdays, people, being home for dinner, weekends, and so many other essential things. But slowly, the cab becomes home. The highway becomes familiar. You learn to live in motion.
And I carry a lot of pride in it. Pride in knowing that you’re reliable, you showed up on time, and that you didn’t let bad weather or traffic stop you. Out there, nobody hands you anything; you earn every mile.
We talk a lot in this country about essential workers. During COVID, we were called “heroes.” That faded fast, but we’re still here. Still hauling. Still moving goods across thousands of miles while most people sleep.
I am not looking for thanks; I just want people to know we are out here, men and women, young and old, experienced or newbie; we keep the engine of America running, one highway at a time. This is more than a job; it’s a way of life for us.
And for me, it’s still worth everything.
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