As I was sitting in the Flying J this morning having breakfast, I noticed the Christmas decorations hanging up, the waitresses were cheerful, the place was bustling with older people having their brunch. I also noticed a handful of people, right in the middle of them, that are no doubt truck drivers.
"No Doubt", you say? Yep. No doubt. I noticed these men and watched them for a while. While the older people around them were happy and talking and wondering what in the world they were going to get Jenny for Christmas, these men had none of that on their minds. These were a lot of lonely people sitting in the restaurant.
I could see it in their eyes. I could see the one man at the bar eating...well, pretending to eat. He sat there just staring out into space with a cup of coffee in front of him, a plate of food, and a slice of toast that he just held in his hand for what seemed like hours to me without actually moving it to his mouth. He was obviously in a great deal of thought. I sat and I wondered what he was thinking about.
The guy next to me at the table eating, never looked up. He ate in total silence. The waitress came by and filled his cup and he never acknowledged her. He just sat there with his head down and ate. he looked absolutely, wonderfully, miserable.
The table to the right of me had two men sitting and eating face to face. They probably didn't say ten words between them. One kept just looking out of the window, probably thinking of his wife and his children, or maybe not. The man that was with him looked around at the other people in the restaurant, probably thinking that all of the people in here looked just as lonely and miserable as he felt.
This driving gig isn't for everyone. There a LOT of lonely days and nights out here. Sure, you can speak with your family on the phone as much as you like, but it will never replace being at home. The funny thing is, when you are at home, you miss the road...when you are on the road, you desperately miss your family.
The life of a truck driver is probably the weirdest life you can live. We are rock stars without the fame and fortune. We are nomads. We can't be still. We HAVE to be on that road! I wrote a piece a while back about this very thing, and I would like to share it with you here. It is called "The Road".
The road is my friend.
Sometimes there are days when I think that the road is the only friend I have. No matter how I feel, how grumpy I am, or how the weather is, the road is always there...leading me to another town or another state. He is always showing me something new, and he always makes me think.
He makes me think of just how lonely he is. Oh yes, the road is lonely. I'm out here with him every day, and he talks to me. He has seen death and destruction, grown old and haggard, and been patched more than you can imagine, yet he is always here. He has known millions of people, yet he is still alone.
He has been good and bad to me. You could say that we have a love/hate relationship. He is great to me as he leads me home to the people that I love and long to be with, but he has been a bitch to me as he takes me away from them a few days later.
Those are the times when I hate the sight of him. I despise his different colors and different textures and shapes. I loathe being out with him during those times, but he always seems to take me somewhere or show me something that makes me feel a little better about traveling with him. Besides, he always promises to bring me back to my wife and little girl, and so far he hasn’t lied to me about it.
I’ve seen a lot of things with him. He has shown me the tall palm trees in Hollywood and the short ones in Miami. He has taken me to the Battlefields of Gettysburg, where I could almost hear Abraham Lincoln giving his famous “Emancipation Proclimation”. He has led me to the Mountains of South Dakota where I saw four Presidents etched into the side of a mountain at Mt. Rushmore, and felt the chills on my spine as I gazed up at it.
He has taken me to forty eight of the fifty states in this country. I’ve seen the Sun rise over the Atlantic, and the sun set over the Pacific. I’ve been over every mountain range and through every desert.
The road has shown me more beauty than I could ever imagine, but he has never shown me anything as beautiful as my wife and daughter’s faces as he led me to them. He delivers me safely to them and gives me up for days and weeks at a time, with no complaints, and for that I thank him.
Yep, the road is my friend.
Well said. I remember those lonely meals. Those moments of wishing beyond wishing that I could be at home.
ReplyDeleteAnd now... I have fewer lonely meals, but find myself wishing beyond wishing that I could be on the road.
It's a twisted world to be a "trucker". I will always consider myself as such. Even if I'm just busing people around town.