Horn Tooting

There's no way he's going to make it. The truck is too big. The driveway, too small.

Where I work, I see the phenomenon that is semi-truck driving several times a week. Situated in a narrow streeted business district, the Hotwork building houses not only offices, but a large work shop as well. You might be surprised to learn that in our own Lexington, KY, tools and machinery used to maintain factories and refineries all over the United States, Canada, and Mexico are tested and repaired, a constant stream of comings and goings as one job finishes and another begins.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take much manpower to unload and reload the humongous trucks that
carry equipment from one location to another. The men employed in these positions are strong and fairly young, not yet to the age of worrying about the potential negative long term repercussions associated with constant intensive labor. They work quickly and efficiently, barely giving the transport driver a chance to use the restroom and stretch his legs sufficiently before he reluctantly assumes his position behind the large wheel awaiting his instruction.

Sometimes the shop guys complain that the truck driver's are annoying, because they talk too much. Often after their departure, everyone talks about how odd they are, laughing about the queer things they say. It's true. They are usually annoying and say weird things, but come on, you've got to cut them some slack. They are alone in a tiny cab all day, every day, driving, driving, driving. When I drive long distances, it's my excited anticipation of the place I'm journeying toward that keeps me sane. In 4 hours I'll get to see Kelly. Just 10 more hours to Green Bay. Without a great payoff to look forward to , I don't know that I'd be able to force my body to sit still and solitary for hours and hours, knowing I'd be doing the same thing the next day. It's true that there are many mundane things we must do to live life. We have to work, if we want food and shelter. I don't know of anyone who's job is so stimulating, they are always eager for more. But it's one thing to be bored, daydreaming about the end of your shift, and quite another to be caged inside a small box day after day, never having anyone to talk to or make any kind of contact with.

There are days I get tired of spending time with my co-workers. Tired of the whining and complaining. Tired of sympathizing with their mundane problems. Tired of their weird habits and odors. Tired. But if I had to choose between working with them or working completely alone, I would most definitely choose the former. Any sane person would. That's why solitary confinement is a punishment, not a reward.

I don't know how truck driver's do what they do. Besides the solitude, they perform miracles. I've seen trucks that seem wider than roads maneuvered to into tiny driveways, then backed up to be unloaded and reloaded for a new task. When I use a mirror, it's for the sake of vanity. When they use one, it's a tool that saves property and lives.

In summation, truck drivers should be admired, even if they are weird conversationalists.

So next time you pass a giant semi on the highway, be sure to smile, wave, and make the universal arm motion for horn tooting; it might be the only contact with another human being they have all week.