I chose trucking
GG—I married a young man with a trucking background,
and we dreamed of the day we would run together. My husband eventually let me learn how to drive, but he didn’t like having me on the road with him. We had our own truck and trailer running produce on the West Coast, when he shut it down and ordered me to stay home. I asked if I could just drive near home, and he threw me out of our 22-year marriage.
On my own, I finally found a trucking job. I had a reputation of being difficult with the men. I refused to play games and expected them to keep their hands to themselves and their language clean. The rough ones ignored me and the kind ones respected what I could do.
Yes, the traffic is awful in the cities. And yes, the newer, under-experienced drivers are stressful to deal with, but it is still a deep pleasure to watch the road ahead and feel the highway rolling under me.
I do not get far from home anymore; Texas is a big state, so it’s like long hauling sometimes. I’m also serving my sixth term on city council in this little town, I volunteer in the Ladies Auxiliary of the Volunteer Fire Department, and I teach Sunday school to little ones in my church.
I have no regrets that I chose trucking. I do regret that my father did not live long enough to know I made it. At 63 years of age, I know I only have a few years left, and I intend to continue enjoying them as long as I can still get up on the deck and hook the trailer up.
Bonnie N., Newark, TX
Thanks for sharing, Bonnie. You remind us all that trucking—and our lives—are what we make of it. You are truly a driven woman.
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