Home Sweet Home

I'm home. He is still delivering his backhaul, but he kindly dropped me off so I could go to work today.

We stopped last night at the Petro in Rochelle IL ... so close to home, but he was out of hours for the day and after two really long days, we were both bushed. My eyes flew open this morning at 3:50 a.m. I snoozed for about 45 minutes and then after a quick teeth brushing and we were on the road by 5.

I'm happy to be sitting in my kitchen, two loads of laundry in progress and a shower in my own bathroom completed. Ahhhh. I don't want to leave ever again.

Every time I go with him, I learn something new. And every time I get home, I have a new respect for the job he does.

Here's why.

He started working last Saturday. He's still working now. That's a long week. There truly aren't that many hours off in between. You're up early every day. You're rarely done by 6 p.m. Your clock is all off because you're crossing time zones.

It's a whole lot more physical than you think. You're shoving and moving skids that weigh hundreds of pounds in a dirty, dusty, suffocatingly hot trailer.

Even the driving part -- like a 20 mph cross wind -- takes some muscles. Hell, climbing in and out of the cab where there's steps and handles isn't exactly easy (though I was better at it by the end of the week than I was at the beginning) and don't get me started on "hopping" up into the trailer. It's HARD.

SIDENOTE: Most driver injuries happen during these two climbing sessions. Miss a bottom step and it's concrete in your teeth, baby.

And, of course, there's the stuff that would drive me crazy. I would never have enough patience to deal with other cars/trucks/motorcycles/bicycles that seem to not understand that it's impossible for 80,000 lbs. to stop on a dime or turn around in 40 sq. ft. I couldn't drive all day in that box and then eat and sleep there every day, too. The endless loop of satellite radio (who knew that's all it was ... the same stuff played over and over and over) would drive me batty. And just not having the freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted to do it would prevent me from ever hitting the road.

But I see what he likes about it and why it's good for him. He digs the deadline pressure of seeing if he can beat the clock and get what sounds to be impossible done. Watching the sunrise over 200 different places a year is pretty cool. He'd hate to be chained to a desk.

My favorite part? He always knows where we're going when we rent a car on vacation.

Sure, truck drivers get a bad rap from some. As with any group of people, some within that group deserve it. But many more don't. I have come to admire those that choose this work. It's not easy. It's hard on families. It's often demanding and uncomfortable.

But those that do it make sacrifices so the rest of us have groceries and iPods, clothes and cough syrup, mail and toilet paper.

I think it's cool that he is proud to do what he does. I am proud, too.