OldTroubador's blog post - Happy Birthday Freebird III

It’s been two years since I picked up a brand new Freightliner Cascadia, which I named the Freebird III. In those two years, we have run 275,000 miles. We have toured the eastern half of the country hard, picking up and delivering freight from Maine to Florida, from the eastern seaboard to the edge of the Great Plains. With the exception of one trip to Wendover, UT and back (New Year’s 2014), one trip to Omaha, NE (summer 2014), and one trip about an hour and a half west of Minneapolis (winter 2015), this iteration of the Freebird has not been west of I-35. More’s the pity. I think she would like running out that way. She is still a good solid truck, good power, likes to play in the hills and lean into those big sweeping turns. She still loves it when I roll down the windows, turn the volume up, and slip some southern fried or some C.W. McCall into the CD player. That really makes her move.
Except for replacing a few lights, she hasn’t let me down. Through all kinds of weather, over all types of terrain, she keeps on pulling. She still keeps me warm and dry in the winter and cool in the summer. I’ve held up my end of the bargain by keeping her out of the ditches and she has kept me safe. She’s a helluva gal and I love her as much as any other friend I have.
One day, it was late spring, west of Wichita, KS on a little two lane road, we hit a bad rainstorm. Visibility was almost nothing, and the wind was hitting the left side as strong as I have ever felt. I knew that empty trailer we were pulling was dancing like a hootcie kootchie girl, but I was too scared to look in the mirrors. I finally did look once, when everything got light in the back end. I watched the left drive tire suspension settle back down. Yeah, we almost had a blow-over. But she just lowered her head, kept on pulling and straightened that silly trailer right out.
Another day, south of Wichita (maybe I need to stay away from that town), up on the Kansas Turnpike, we ran into one bad-ass thunderstorm. The lightning was constant, the rain heavy, and the hail even heavier. I geared her down and turned on the hazard lights and let her just ease her way down the road. When we finally found a safe place to park, we did – just to catch our breath before moving on. The next three hours were spent slogging through a gully washing, frog strangling rain; she never missed a beat and never put a foot wrong.
There have been other storms – the ice storm in Louisiana two winters ago, the blizzards, etc. She shrugged them off and kept on trucking like the thoroughbred filly she is. I owe my livelihood, and my life, to this old gal.
So, Happy Birthday FB III!!! I have enjoyed every mile we have run together. I appreciate everything you do. For over 700 sunrises and sunsets, we have been as one and I hope to share a thousand more with you. I love you more than a platter sized chicken fried steak. And I hope the next few years and few hundred thousand miles are as fun and safe as the last have been.