FRIENDSHIP IS CHERISHED FOREVER
YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MY FRIEND
But the lobbiests had money and time on their hands -- They went before Congress with a list of demands. The truckers kept working, with no time to meet. It seemed they were losing . . . it seemed they'd been beat. "There's too many of us to meet in one place, And no time for meetings at our hectic pace. We keep these trucks rollin' all day and all night, Without much time off to fight for our rights. We can call up our Senators and Congressmen, too, But without organization nor money, then what can we do?"
It was beyond comprehension -- a total surprise, The lobbiests succeeded in trucking's demise . . . The people all thought that the trucks weren't needed, And the trucker's reaction was ignored and not heeded. So, all over the land, the trucks were sent home, And truckers, in a panic, called their families on the phone. "Let's stock up our pantries with needed supplies -- Plenty to live on while everyone cries!"
"Let's pack up our poles and head for the lake -- We've been working hard -- it's time for a break!"
"42 on that one," one trucker said, "I've got a long date with my pillow and bed. It'll be a real treat to sleep every night, To tuck in my kids and kiss them goodnight."
So, one by one, they delivered their loads, And within a week, they were all off the road. They went to the house and went to the lake, And the people soon realized they'd made a mistake. The people went to the stores, but the shelves were soon clear -- There wasn't any steak or chicken or beer. So they ate at McDonald's and at Taco Bell, But within a few days, they sold out as well. The streets were soon clear of the four wheelers, too, For without any gas, there wasn't much they could do.
It was all over the news and on the front page -- "The Country's in Chaos!" "This is an Outrage!" "There's a shortage of everything! We've all been so wrong -- The fact is, we've needed those trucks all along!" The news came from Walters, and Jennings, and Chung, But it was said best of all by a boy pretty young --
"My dad's a trucker," the little guy said, "And he works pretty hard to keep you all fed. He isn't mean and he isn't rude -- He drives many miles to bring you your food. If you just got to know him, you'd surely see, Why he's so special to my mommy and me. He drives in the heat and he drives in the snow, And our prayers are with him, wherever he goes. Every night when I turn out my light, I pray, That God keeps my daddy safe the next day. He's stopped many times when a car was broke down, To change a flat tire or take someone to town. To me, he's a hero -- riding tall in the seat Of that sharp-looking rig, his trusty ol' Pete."
His story was featured on every network -- Just an eight year old boy, in jeans and t-shirt. The truckers all knew their vacation was up -- It was time to get rollin' and load up their trucks. Many things changed in the weeks that just passed -- Truckers regained the respect they'd had in years past. It wasn't too much to demand or expect Mutual consideration and mutual respect. For in most of these trucks, up behind the wheel, Is a heart made of gold, and a person who's real. But it took empty shelves and the words of a youth, To outline the facts and point out the truth!
By Vicki Scofield
But this time I'm rollin' solo, just me and my trusty truck, We've got to get a goin', so goodbye . . . and lots of luck! I'm rollin' up to heaven, up there on that Thunder Road, They said they're waitin' for me and this very special load. They said to check in with the angel at the guard shack of heaven's gate, I guess they need another trucker to haul some of that holy freight! So the next time you see the lightening and you hear that thunder roar, Don't you worry about the storm clouds . . . It'll be the diesel hummin' as we welcome home one more!
By Vicki Scofield
If no one seems to appreciate all the miles that separate, If you haven't heard a "thank you" for that urgent load of freight, Let me tell you, driver, you're a hero ridin' tall As you navigate from coast to coast and bring goods to us all! And for the families of the truckers -- A sincere appreciation For the sacrifices you have made as they roll across our nation!
By Vicki Scofield
My arm tenderly encircling your waist While my other arm slowly tightens around your shoulders. I gently pull you close to me. Your head nestles in the hollow of my neck. Fingertips lightly brush away tension. Our breathing becomes as one. Our hearts beat in unison. Strength flows from me to you.
Know that I love you and that I'm only a memory away.
By Bill Hayward & Deana Christie
To see the lights of home is not an everyday occurance And truckers' wives are "homebound angels" winning wings for their endurance. She keeps the home fires burning as her man rolls down the road And waits patiently for his return at the end of many loads.
So keep the home fires burnin' -- it won't be much longer -- Until I see the lights of home, welcoming me to feed my hunger. It's just like heaven when I can return to you and to our humble abode, But don't count on it forever -- I'll soon be headin' down the road.
When I must leave my homebound angel for my travelin' way of life, I thank God for the courage He has given to a trucker's wife!
By Mary Crump
The Above Poems Submitted
By Tami Gray
I had come down highway With foot to the floor,
And to see just who, was behind that door.
I looked all about, A strange sight I did see.
No kids, No wife, Not even a family.
No wreath on grill, Just a man with a smile,
I read on the truck, we go the extra mile.
With lights of color, Wheels spinning round,
I thought to myself, He must be city bound.
For this truck was different, It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a trucker, Once I could see clearly.
The driver sat driving, Silent, Alone,
Sitting up on the seat In this one bedroom dome.
The face was so gentle, The truck looked a new,
Not how I pictured A professional driver, who knew.
Was this the hero of whom i'd just read?
Who saved a small child, From being dead?
I realized the families That I saw that night.
Owed their lives to these truckers Who drive by night.
Soon round the country, The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate A bright Christmas day.
They all enjoy gifts Each month of the year,
Because of the truckers, Like the one I see here.
I couldn't help wonder How many drive alone,
On a cold Christmas eve In a land far from home.
The very thought Brought a tear to my eye,
I got out my tissue And started to cry.
The trucker yelled And I heard a rough voice,
"Hey, Don't cry, This life is my choice;
I drive for the people, I don't ask for much,
My life is my God, My country, My truck."
The trucker rolled on to finish his job,
I couldn't control it, I continued to sob.
I kept thinking for hours, So silent and still
And thought can he finish Does he have enough will.
I didn't want to continue On that cold, dark, night,
This guardian of honor So willing to drive.
Then the trucker slowed down, With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Mr, It's Christmas Day, All is ok."
One look at my watch, And I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend, And to all a Good Night.
Truckers are as American as apple pie! Five days a week my husband is up and down the highways, delivering goods for you and me. I spend a lot of time at home alone, taking care of everything under the sun, being mommy and daddy. He is our hero because we know without people like him we would have no food at the grocery store, no produce at the produce markets, no gas at the gas stations, no mail delivered to our door, the list is endless. At some point in time everything we touch is handled by a transport company or independent driver.
Driving a big truck is not an easy job. Drivers have deadlines to make, they spend long periods of time away from their home and families, unless they are lucky enough to find a local driving job that pays enough. Not likely! They have to deal with traffic, weather conditions and other motorists. Most accidents that involve a tractor trailer are usually the other person's faults. People in general don't have a clue as to what it takes to drive a big truck while trying to deliver freight for you, me and everyone else on earth. Not many people know what is involved in the daily or weekly run of a truck driver. Take into consideration the 13 gears a driver has to go through to get up to highway speed, that's one hand on the wheel, one hand on the shifter, and their feet between clutch, brake and gas. Think about it, that is all four appendages being used at the same time. Most people can't walk and chew gum at the same time. When they drive in town, it is a constant shifting procedure in stop and go traffic. Once they are on the highway and have reached highway speed, stopping a loaded truck is just as hard as getting it going, sometimes harder. The weight disbursement is all in the rear end and literally pushes the tractor of the truck while the driver is breaking. This is the reason for so many jack-knives, especially on slippery wet roads, the driver tries to stop to avoid an accident and the heavy part, the trailer, does not stop, and swings itself around, usually dragging the front, tractor, right along with it. Truck drivers also have to deal with vision impairments, no that doesn't mean they have bad eye sight. The length of the truck and the positioning of the mirrors make it very difficult to judge. Trucks have a lot of blind spots, they are much higher and much longer than other vehicles on the road. So all you brave souls in your little cars that like to ride along side big trucks, THEY CAN'T SEE YOU! When you follow to close behind them and try to turn beside them, thinking you are faster than they are, THEY CAN'T SEE YOU!
I've found most truck drivers leave their professions because of accidents caused by others. Most of them are family men and women, yes I know women truck drivers, who seldom see their families. When a car full of young people pull out in front of them and they can't stop it causes dreadful accidents, the driver reflects on his own children at home. When the mother in the car full of children, who decided it was great to ride along side a truck so the kids can get a look, doesn't see the truck changing lanes and gets run off the road. The driver flashes back to his own family at home.
I think it should be a requirement to take an additional test at the time of receiving our license on knowing how to conduct ourselves when driving near a big truck. Remember truckers are out their doing a job for us, transporting goods to our home towns, moving us, and delivering for us. They should be treated with respect on the roadways.
A truck driver is always one of the first people to stop and help others stranded on the highway. They make emergency calls for people, they give up their water reserve to cars that have over heated, and they usually will take someone who is stranded to the next exit for help, even on their strict deadlines. If they can't make the stop, you can pretty much bet they have radioed the local police or the trucker behind them that someone needs assistance. They are a group of people we don't come in contact with much anymore, people who are willing to lend a helping hand to a complete stranger in need. Truck drivers are heros, just as much as the police department, or the fire department. In the midst of doing their job they take the time to help others. So please respect them and avoid pulling out in front of them or passing on their right side. Better yet, before messing with a big truck, get behind the wheel and take one for a spin, go ahead, see what it's like. I did, and I must say, it's not anything I would want to do for a living and I pray constantly for my husband and the father of my children to make it back home safely!
Copyright Â© 2000 Wendy Kudlicka
The parade grew as the rigs roared on
or white line fever would slow the loads.
Some twenty CB's crackled to life,
a driver or two wanted off the road.
In the coal black dark of a Texas night,
Bears were waitin' with trucks in their sight.
In the median sittin' ever so quiet,
they got the drivers dead to rights.
All of a sudden with complete surprise,
tough ol' drivers got tears in their eyes.
"Do me a favor, stroll easy down the road,
a truck rolled over with a big, heavy load."
The CB suddenly got awful darned quiet
as the parade so somberly passed.
For one more trucker in the silent night,
that big heavy load would be the last.
Copyright ©2000 Ellyn Kossiski
For this Company, I will do all that I can, I only ask you to remember that I'm not SUPERMAN. When I get back into town, that very same day, You more often have a load for me to take away.
The orders for the load, you give them to me, Before my house, I have a chance to see. You seem to think, I have as my life's goal To be driving the highways alone and old.
That's not what I want, you should see, I need to spend time with my family. All work and no play, as you should really know, Makes Jack a dull boy, don't let romance grow.
Staying out there, running up and down the road, Makes a relationship go bad, rapidly erode. For the best way to get a good job done, Is to remember, that drivers also have to have fun.
After a few days of frolic and rest, He will get out there and run with the best. If you keep on turning him with loads that are hot, Delivery will be maybe, and maybe not.
CORDIALLY A TIRED DRIVER
And the Lord said, "Have you read the spec on this order?"
" A truck driver has to be able to drive 10-12 hours per day, through any type of weather, on any type of road, know the highway traffic laws of 48 states and 10 provinces, he has to be ready and able to unload 40,000 lbs of cargo after driving thru the night, sleep in areas of cities and towns that the police refuse to patrol."
" He has to be able to live in his truck 24 hours a day 7 days a week for weeks on end, offer first aid and motorist assistance to his fellow travelers, meet just in time schedules, and still maintain an even and controlled composure when all around him appear to have gone mad."
" He has to be in top physical condition at all times, running on black coffee and half-eaten meals; he has to have six pairs of hands."
The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands... no way."
It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "it's the three pairs of eyes a driver has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.
The Lord nodded.
" One pair that sees the herd of deer in the thickets 3 miles away" "Another pair here in the side of his head for the blind spots that motorists love to hide in; and another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at the bleeding victim of a drunk driver that crashed into his ICC bumper at 70MPH and say,
" ' You'll be all right ma'am,' when he knows it isn't so."
" Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."
" I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can drive 650 miles a day, without incident and can raise a family of five without ever seeing them, on 30 cents a mile."
The angel circled the model of the truck driver very slowly, "Can it think?" ,she asked.
"You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the elements of every HAZMAT load invented; recite Federal Motor Carrier Regulations rules and regs in its sleep; deliver, pickup, be a father, offer timely advice to strangers, search for missing children, defend a woman's or children's rights, get 8 hours of good rest on the street and raise a family of Law respecting citizens, without ever going home ... and still it keeps its sense of humor. "
"This driver also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with delivery and pickup areas created from scenes painted in hell, coax a lumper to actually work for his money, comfort an accident victim's family, and then read in the daily paper how truck drivers are nothing more than killers on wheels and have no respect for the rights of others while using the nations highways."
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the driver. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," said the lord, "it's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.
"It's for bottled-up emotions, for fallen comrades, for commitment to that funny piece of cloth called the flag, for justice, for the family without its father."
"You're a genius," said the angel.
The Lord looked somber. "I didn't put it there,"
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