George was an old time trucker. He loved the life. One of
his first comments before we even got in the truck was “what other job can you
have that you get paid to sit on your ass”. He had been doing it all of his life – in fact
he was driving a truck (water truck for a lumbering company on some back roads near
Valleyview, Alberta) before he had his driving license. George was
also a bit tired and needed someone to keep him awake. I was all prepared to entertain
him with my stories but I didn’t need to. He just really needed someone to
listen to his. And he had lots to talk about.
So we talked about his wife of twenty some years who had
died eight or nine years previously and his current girlfriend of seven years. When
I mentioned to him that I had met very few truckers who had stayed married for
so long he gave me exactly the same answer as had another trucker a few years
back who had been married for more than 30 years. “Keep it in your pants!” George’s
philosophy was quite clear and very simple…if you love and respect your wife,
you won’t mess around with anyone else. That love and respect shows when you
are home with her. I suppose some fancy
TV psychiatrist could have put it more eloquently – but it would have meant the
same thing and would have lacked the voice of experience. I suspect it is easy
to say it but it is a bit harder to live the philosophy when you are on the
road for a few weeks at a time.
About an hour or so into our four hour drive he told me to
sit back and relax. He had a phone call to make. He was calling his lady who
live on their few acres somewhere along Shuswap Lake in BC. They talked for
about half an hour about all of the normal stuff: how their pregnant dog was
doing, about the weather both there and on the road, what the traffic was like
and what they were going to do when he got home. He had been on the road for
almost three weeks and they were both missing each other. George was very
conscious that it was much harder on her than him and so made a point of calling
as often as he could. Their good-byes were a bit embarrassing…. I am not use to
hearing truckers making loud, rather wet kissing sounds over the phone. But it
was kind of sweet. After he hung up, we didn’t talk for a bit.
George drove for a reasonably large national company. I was
surprised that he had picked me up given his company’s rules about picking up
hitchhikers. George was too old to care about such rules. He knew the owner of
the company and said that they trusted him to make good decisions. We spent
some time talking about truck jackings and other kinds of theft that occur on
the road. I had never realized that it happened as often as he said it did. He
was quite clear, if he had been carrying something valuable like cigarettes,
booze or even fresh meat, he would not have offered me a ride. But he said that
if I really wanted to I was welcome to the frozen pierogies
in the back. I told him that he was
safe.
It was a fun ride.
George had some good stories and told them well. We talked about the usually stuff that
truckers and I talk about: log books, weight scales, the police, CB radios and
of course his truck. His truck was pretty new and had an automatic transmission.
He loved it and it shifted so smoothly and intuitively. He, like most truckers, liked it when I
praised his truck. But George also had a few things he needed to talk about
that he hadn’t discussed in a long time and so as we drove through he long dark
stretches between Regina and Brandon he talked about those things as well. Nothing unusual or terrible; just stuff about
family and people that he knew. Like so many of my drivers, George, while he
liked being a driver, sometimes just needed to talk about things with a safe
stranger.
As we got close to Brandon I asked him about tomorrow. He
was planning on going as far as Nipigon and then the next day to get down
towards Toronto. I was pretty sure that I had a ride all the way to North Bay.
I was pretty excited. George told me that he really enjoyed our talk together
and he would be glad to get me to at least Nipigon. We checked the time and
agreed that we would meet at 9:15 at the east end of Brandon. We agree upon
what time it was when I got out of the truck and I assured him I would see him
tomorrow morning.
I walked down to the other end of town to my favourite spot
to sleep outside in all of Canada. It is just twenty feet from the highway but there is a littlee grove of trees that keep me hidden from the traffic and the grass is long and soft. I unrolled my bag and bivy sack and was asleep five minutes after I
laid my head down. I had made it to Brandon. I was on the schedule I had made
for myself. I am sure that feel asleep smiling
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