Who is that SOB?

Who is that son of a bitch that that you just flipped off?  You were just driving along and minding your own business.  You have to take this section of the interstate to get to the store today.   You saw the semi truck coming as you were coming up the on ramp but you knew that he would move over and let you in.  At the last second, you finally realized that he hadn't noticed you and made room for your approach and you had to slam on your brakes to avoid running your Accura into the ditch.  “That son of a bitch.” You thought as you stabbed the accelerator to get around him and showed him your middle finger.  Two miles down the road, you pull out your phone and post something nasty on your Facebook page about those damn truck drivers.  Then, you have all but forgotten that driver, but he hasn't forgotten you.   He almost killed you today and that will linger with him long into the night.

I want to tell you a little about that “son of a bitch.” That guy is a father.  He is a husband, a lover, a brother, an uncle and a friend. He is on the job 24 hours a day for two weeks at a time to make sure his children have what they need.  The government tells him that he is only allowed to work eleven hours a day, but he wont get to work eleven hours today, he will be lucky if he gets to work for seven.  He got up at three o’clock this morning to start his day.  The government says that he has to get all of his work done inside of a fourteen hour window once his day starts.  So come five this afternoon, he has to shut down that truck no matter what.  He drove for one hour and sat in the parking lot of his consignee.  He waited for two hours past his appointment time to get unloaded because the customer has not hired enough people or trained them correctly.   They sure took their time to unload him.  He don’t get paid for that.  He only gets paid for moving that rig and sitting and waiting for inept forklift operators don’t put food on the table.  He left that customer after four and a half hours of waiting and drove three and a half hours over to another shipper.  He was at the shipper on time, but they overloaded his trailer.  They knew they overloaded him.  They were trying to be sneaky about it.  He had to come back to the dock and have them remove part of the load to avoid getting a ticket for being overweight. He wasted three hours there getting his load.  A process that should have taken 30 minutes. 

All of this ineptitude has made him quite late for his scheduled delivery.  He now only has 2 hours left to actually drive that truck to earn some money before he has to shut down for the night or face violating his logbook.  He is not speeding to get there on time.  He can’t .  His truck is governed at 64 miles per hour because his insurance company demands it.  “It makes the roads safer” they claim.  He understands that statement is a lie, but no one wants to hear him explain why.  He is going to be late.  He is ok with that, but that means that every load he has to deliver after this is going to be late too.  It’s only Tuesday and he already knows.  He knows that because of all of this, he is not going to make it home on Friday night.  He was supposed to take his wife out for diner.  He is going to have to call her when he stops and explain that he won’t make it.  “Maybe Saturday – or maybe next month baby” he will try to say.  Knowing that she will understand, but she will be disappointed. He is probably going to make it home by early Saturday night now.  He is going to miss his sons little league game too.  He promised.  Man he is going to hear it for that.  It’s not his fault.  He knows that but no one wants to hear it.  He has missed too many games already.  He was away when his son took his first steps and he missed his wife's birthday again this year.  34 hours after he gets home, he will climb back in that truck and leave his family again for another two weeks.

He keeps a picture of his family taped to his dashboard to remind him of why he sacrifices so much of his time. He is trying to make it to a rest area about 60 miles up the road where he intends to shut it down for the night.  There is no coffee or showers there, but those are the breaks.  His truck is starting to smell a bit like a man cave but there is no where else close by that he can make it to before his clock runs out. All the time he has lost today has insured that he will be short on his paycheck.  For all this work, he only brings home about 600 dollars a week.  He is going to eat his dinner out of a can with a plastic spoon to save a little money.  He knows that his children are eating well though, and that’s the important thing. Sure would be nice to get a shower though.  Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

He saw you coming up that on ramp.  He saw a potential problem developing way before you did.  There was no way to change lanes.  He had 3 cars on his left and pickup truck has been tailgating him for the last 6 miles.  It’s not his responsibility to make room for you and he knows that.  It’s the responsibility of the vehicle entering the interstate to make the appropriate maneuvers to merge with traffic.   But all that knowledge does not ease his mind.  He could already see that you were going to assume that he would move to let you in.   Stabbing the brakes on that eighty thousand pound rocket could be disastrous and he knows it.  He backed off the accelerator a bit but the momentum of that truck just keeps him moving.  There was nowhere to go to the left.  When you got to the end of the on ramp, you jammed on your brakes and cussed his name for not letting you in.  He watched you in his mirror and sucked in his breath hoping that you did not end up hurting yourself by running off the road and into the ditch.  He breathed a bit easier when he saw you come around and gave him the “You’re number one” salute. He watched you speed away and wondered why you didn't just use that accelerator on the on ramp to adjust for merging traffic.

As you drove away, that husband, father, brother and uncle chuckled to himself a bit.   It’s more of a nervous chuckle as he is breathing a sigh of relief that you did not get hurt.  But he is also appreciating the irony of the situation.  Your entire home, the sassy Polo shirt you are wearing, the toothbrush you used this morning,  the cell phone you are now texting on instead of paying attention to the road and even the Accura you are driving were brought to your door step by men and women just like him.  He knows that and he realizes that you have never even thought about it. Like my father before me, I am that truck driver.   I am urging you now to take a serious look around your self.  Just about every single thing you can lay your eyes on that was not put there by God was brought to you by people like that “son of a bitch”.  It came here on his truck.