OldTroubador's blog post - It's a Highway Song, Sing it On and On

Seriously, I need a videographer for ideas like this. This song is written about the loneliness of touring with a rock group, but it works well in my profession also. Wish I record what I feel to this song.
It’s the early morning; all is dark. I sit here sipping cold coffee, watching nothing happening in the parking lot. Walking to the truck stop, I listen to engines rumbling, refrigerator units kicking on with a snort. I smell the diesel and the exhaust. Back in the truck, inspections done and electronic log started, I turn the key. That big old Detroit Diesel grumbles, like I do, not wanting to go. I kick off the brakes, slide her into gear, and ease out of the parking spot. Once I am clear of the trucks on either side, I upshift and straighten out into the driving lane. I upshift again, engine grumbling again at the low RPM’s. Slowly driving around, heading for the exit. Not really wanting this day to start, wondering why I do this. My headlights reflect off the rigs parked – I see a spot on the windshield I missed cleaning. Out the exit, onto a side street, I am looking for the interstate, and the proper direction to go. Yeah, don’t go the west, you want to go east today. I gear down to sixth and swing onto the ramp. Gravity helps us accelerate and I quickly run up the gears. Settling into tenth, I flip on my turn signal and slide onto the big four lane.
As my speed maxes out, and I settle into the routine, my excitement for today’s work builds. Velocity is accentuated by the darkness. It’s a light load we are pulling this morning, the Freebird and I. The first hill looms in front of us and we climb, maintaining our speed. The miles fly by, trees and cliffs passing quickly on the sides. We climb another hill, engine singing at full song. A slower truck, a heavier truck, is in front of us and we quickly gain on it. Left turn signal on, fast glance in the mirror – nothing there. Slide left. As we pass the slower rig, the big Detroit up front is growling, snarling; the turbocharger is whistling a happy tune. The power can be felt through the seat, shaking me to my core. I smile as we zoom past; he is a blur in my peripheral vision. His lights dim then come back on, letting us know that we are clear back to the right lane. My wig-wags dance to the beat, saying Thank You. We top the hill and the governor cuts off the fuel pump; we glide quietly down, the only sound is the wind rushing past and the tires humming. At the bottom is a left hand bend. Mirror check, all clear, no one around or catching me. What the hell. I ease off to the right, tires buzzing on the rumble strip. One more glance – good. I Dale Earnhardt into the turn – Driving deep into it, tires laying a strip on the left hand yellow line. I hold her there, the ‘Bird leaning hard into the turn. I ease off the throttle as the turn tightens; the ‘Bird is rock steady. At the apex, I drop the hammer, pushing her hard through the last half. I can feel the centrifugal forces shoving me against the seat belt. Momentum and weight carry us back to the outside, right side tires again in the rumble strips. Even the Freebird is smiling as we straighten out, headed for the next hill. Oh hell yeah!!!
Dawn breaks. I can see the trees, farms, and fields as we flash by. I pass cars and trucks and get passed too. Everything is clicking today. The road, my ‘Bird, the music. She is talking to me, telling me she is having a blast. The music is so loud, I can barely hear the engine. But she tells me when to shift; I don’t even scratch a gear. She and I are one entity, pulling freight, laying a strip, exuberant in our work. Traffic builds, so I have to keep her between the lines now. But the dynamic never changes. Engine roaring, Jake brakes chuckling, every bit of her telling a tale of joy. We fly up the next hill – it almost feels like we will soar off into the clouds as we hit the top. I pass a competitor struggling against the grade and gravity. I cackle, like Snoopy laughing at the Red Baron. I close my eyes and imagine a rooster tail of asphalt peeling off the rear tires. I feel like I have been smiling this whole trip; yeah, four wheels move your groceries, but eighteen move my soul, baby.
My soul is cleansed by the rush of the wind. The hideous dark spots are beaten into submission by six enormous cylinders pounding down the power in that Detroit Diesel block. I dance to the beat of the highway, felt in my arms, feet, and seat; the music comes to me through the tires, the stick-shift, the throttle. We are on the world’s longest roller coaster – I put my hands in the air as we soar over the next hill. The Freebird and I are one. We are no longer machine and human. We are an eagle.
Like all rides, this one comes to an end. The Jakes chortle as I glide up the last ramp of the day, then bark as I downshift. Stop sign, easing her onto the two lane, then turning right and rolling into the truck stop. As the music fades, I back into our spot and set the brakes as the music comes to an end. My lady rumbles contentedly in idle as I shut down the electronic log and finish my paperwork. I turn off the engine and she sighs, happily. I roll my seat back, close my eyes, and replay the day. I can still hear the music. I can still feel the beat. Days like this are why I do this. And yeah, I’m still smiling.