Ran across this poem that puts a spotlight on our profession. I’ve often wondered why are there are so few good trucking poems. Anybody out there got anything to offer? This one at least hits the mark.
Near Election, Missouri by Steven Schreiner
There is so much to hear from the highway at dawn the trucker in his high cab illuminated by switches an image of him in speedometer glass a picture of his wife and one of his dog pasted on the ceiling above his sleeper iPhone and Facebook page and the wind on the hood of his Peterbilt and then the light rises over the world revealing weeds and granite outcropping and later down between hills on the rise above the river the dynamite cut lines scarring the rock face and soon it’s time to stop for coffee and breakfast trundle over the rumble strips of the off-ramp parking lot bumps and buddy trucks the cavernous concussion of empty trailer or the thunderous lumber of a heavy load Inside at the bright treatment of the counter the glare glances off a sticky menu the clean counter-edge sparkle of mica What’s good I’ll have that These moments when living is the same as driving leading somewhere unsurprising within reach Then the radio with its rush and riling talk the propriety to lie the long day now returning with anger
Harry Rudolfs has worked as a dishwasher, apprentice mechanic, editor, trucker, foreign correspondent and taxi driver. He's written hundreds of articles for North American and European journals and newspapers, including features for the Ottawa Citizen, Toronto Life and CBC radio.
With over 30 years experience in the trucking industry he's hauled cars, steel, lumber, chemicals, auto parts and general freight as well as B-trains. He holds an honours BA in creative writing and humanities, summa cum laude. All posts by Harry Rudolfs