I like trucks!!!

I like trucks. What more can I say than that. There is something about a big diesel rig that appeals to me. As I drive down the highway I am constantly admiring the rigs I see and the raw beauty of them.
Many years ago I wanted to be a truck driver. The thought of life on the highway, seeing new country, meeting new friends and being by myself with my truck was so appealing. After several years of experiencing some of my dreams I now have a slightly different outlook. Yes, I still love trucks. Yes, I still like seeing the country, (mind you I did not say NEW country), and yes, I have met many people whom I would call my friends that I would not have previously met. However, it is not all it seems. Life can get very lonely on the highway especially when your family is a thousand miles away having problems that you are helpless to deal with. The part that was hard for me also was going to new towns all the time and trying to find my pickup or drop off sites. A dedicated route with dedicated material that I don't have to handle would be just fine.
I was thinking last night of some of my more humorous times. There was the time I was driving across southern Idaho around 1:00am. Naturally at that time of morning you don't watch too closely for the "Bears" that might be out because they should be hibernating anyway. I passed an eastbound truck, grabbed my cb mike and hollered, "How is it looking behind you?" That is trucker talk for asking, "Are there any bears on the road." "Nope, green as far as one can see," came the reply. That lying pup. I didn't drive more than a quarter of a mile when who should be setting in the median but two bears. I, of course, might have been traveling a little fast 'cause their lights came on immediately. You know what lights I am talking about. The ones no one wants to see in their rearview mirror. I instantly grabbed my cb mike and said, "What are you guys doing out here? The other driver just told me you were no where around." There was a pause then one of the officers came back, "He lied." Well they had me and I knew it. I guess they were in a good mood that night because all he said to me after that was, "You're going a little fast so slow it down a touch." Their lights turned off and I proceeded down the road thanking my lucky stars for IHP officers being such nice guys.
One problem truck drivers encounter is becoming sleepy. I does not matter if you just got up from a good nights rest, after so many miles of steady droning from an engine running at about 1900 rpms you get sleepy. A bunch of us were talking about that very thing one night as we traveled in a makeshift convoy. There were a variety of ways discussed on how to keep awake, good looking girls in mini-skirts being the best. One of the drivers came on the radio and said he knew of a sure fire way to stay awake that he had learned some time back. Take a cup of coffee, put a teaspoon of catsup in it, stir it up real good and drink it down; you will stay awake. We digested this for a couple of seconds when someone asked how that could possibly work. The driver replied, "I did it and I was so sick for the next 400 miles that I couldn't go to sleep!" I don't recommend using that method for staying awake.
Another "Bear" story and I will quit for today. I was heading for Boise, Idaho early one morning when I came upon a string of cars in the right hand lane going about 55 mph. This was back in the days when 55 was the maximum limit. Of course I was in a hurry and was not about to follow that bunch of slow pokes so into the left lane I went with the petal to the metal. Silly me. I should have known there was a reason those cars were all going so slow. Who was leading the parade but good old "Smokey Bear". Well, crap he had me again. The only thing I could think to do was grab that good old cb mike and holler, (Idaho Smokeys monitor the cb so I knew he was on the air), "How fast are you going?" He replied, "I am going 55 mph." "Damn," I said. "My speedometer must be broken." I knew I was doing about 65 mph. "Yeah", he drawled back, "I think you might be telling a fib too!" Then he laughed, pulled off at the next exit and mentioned something about being more careful. I wiped my brow, pulled over into the right hand lane and counted my lucky stars again. I am sure another one was missing.
The point to these tales? I don't know if there really is one. Obey the speed limit and you won't get in trouble I guess. Be nice to the smokeys and sometimes they will be nice to you. They are just like the rest of us; working a job that they love and doing the best they can.
Have a nice day.