Driving Spirit
Two of my days of driving behind the wheel were over 550 miles. After driving over 1000 miles in two days I put in my first 630 or more miles in for one day. It was this Friday and I could have fallen into poor self-talk of victimhood because I didn't get paid for the miles. I got training pay. And I was tired and hungry at the end of the trip,
But you know what? I did know how hard it was in the first place and I didn't I could come out on the other side of so many miles feeling fine. I now know I can drive the miles I want without falling over. In all truth, I zoned out for just a little bit while driving. I was somewhere else in my stupid little head and not paying attention to the road. But I was thinking about how things could be for me on the road. I was thinking about how things could be better for me with more money in my pocket. I was thinking about what I could get my little girl so she would forgive me for being gone from her life. I was thinking about redeeming my past transgressions. Man, I wasn't really looking at the road from the outside of the truck. I was looking at driving from some other perspective. No one was hurt but that one mile I zoned put the years ahead into a new light.
On the other side of this journey lies redemption. I look at all the truck drivers on these American roads and I see all kinds of men. Mostly men suffering in one way or another. Men running from something or like me running to something better.
Then there is my trainer. A man that is just fucking happy. Everyone loves him because he has a driving spirit. As he drove our last 100 miles he leaned out the driver's window waving profusely to a small child and pulled continuously on the trucks air horn. As I sat falling asleep I was awakened to what felt like a one-man parade. Not knowing that he had awakened me he looked over with the biggest smile and professed that "if he ever got a ticket he would fight it in court". And with all the spirit of the moment, I knew he felt that he would win his case. He said, "You know that judge and cope both did the same thing as a child". Meaning they had also pumped their fist in the air in pleading for the truck driver blow that air horn. And my trainer, Speedy (his nickname) with full spirit happily laid on that horn for longer than I had known anyone to dare. And he had pride in his eyes and an unending smile.
But you know what? I did know how hard it was in the first place and I didn't I could come out on the other side of so many miles feeling fine. I now know I can drive the miles I want without falling over. In all truth, I zoned out for just a little bit while driving. I was somewhere else in my stupid little head and not paying attention to the road. But I was thinking about how things could be for me on the road. I was thinking about how things could be better for me with more money in my pocket. I was thinking about what I could get my little girl so she would forgive me for being gone from her life. I was thinking about redeeming my past transgressions. Man, I wasn't really looking at the road from the outside of the truck. I was looking at driving from some other perspective. No one was hurt but that one mile I zoned put the years ahead into a new light.
On the other side of this journey lies redemption. I look at all the truck drivers on these American roads and I see all kinds of men. Mostly men suffering in one way or another. Men running from something or like me running to something better.
Then there is my trainer. A man that is just fucking happy. Everyone loves him because he has a driving spirit. As he drove our last 100 miles he leaned out the driver's window waving profusely to a small child and pulled continuously on the trucks air horn. As I sat falling asleep I was awakened to what felt like a one-man parade. Not knowing that he had awakened me he looked over with the biggest smile and professed that "if he ever got a ticket he would fight it in court". And with all the spirit of the moment, I knew he felt that he would win his case. He said, "You know that judge and cope both did the same thing as a child". Meaning they had also pumped their fist in the air in pleading for the truck driver blow that air horn. And my trainer, Speedy (his nickname) with full spirit happily laid on that horn for longer than I had known anyone to dare. And he had pride in his eyes and an unending smile.
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