I love driving all night long – the road is clear and the miles just fly by. And when the sun starts to come up, it’s beautiful. The only problem is that as the sun comes up, the commuters come out, and when you’ve been driving all night and had the road to yourself, it makes it harder to tolerate the antics of the average morning commuter. That’s when I find some time to hit the ol’ mom-and-pop cafe and stay out of the way of those thousands of folks who are obviously in a bigger hurry than me. After breakfast and a shower, it’s nice to hit the road again and crank up some classic rock or old country and put that rig in the wind. Ideally, before the evening rush begins, I like to find a spot to show 10 hours on Line 1 or 2, that way I’m ready and willing to hit that ruthless highway for another all-nighter. This poem really has no topic other than to take the reader on a ride with a trucker through a single logbook page (24 hours). It can be daunting to repeat this process day after day, headed down what I call “The Ruthless Highway” – but it’s what we do – every day.
THE RUTHLESS HIGHWAY
By Trevor Hardwick
Rollin down a ruthless highway, tired from the rising sun,
All night long, I’ve had things my way, now I’m not the only one.
Billboard sign says “home style cookin” pull into the truckstop slow,
Waitress greets me “hey good looking!” I’ll just have a cup of joe.
On second thought, a muffin, Scrambled eggs and home fries too,
Out the window, I see nothin’ cause my minds at home with you.
Out the door within the hour, showered up and belly full,
Hit the on-ramp gainin’ power, ahead of me a long hard pull.
The sun is out, it’s gettin warmer, snow is gone, the spring is here,
Summers just around the corner, winter was a pain this year.
Maybe now, I’ll make some miles, times are tough, it could be worse,
Bills are stacking up in piles, feels like I’m stuck in reverse.
Forward motion, forward motion, positively no regrets,
From the mountains to the ocean, seen the sun rise, seen it set.
Bugs keep splatting on the windshield, but that’s better than snow,
Shadows stretch across a corn field, following where I may go.
Heat waves rising off the highway, such a welcome sight to see,
I’ll be pointed homeward Friday, ten days gone and off for three.
After noon I’ll hit the rest stop, take a nap, let traffic roll,
Later on, I’ll make my last drop, LTL can take it’s toll.
Mash that motor, drag that wagon, grab a gear and let ‘er go,
Makes no difference what I’m draggin, I’ll just drag it long and low.
The night is when I like to drive, folks in bed, the road is mine,
That’s when I feel the most alive, and listen to the highway whine.
Five hundred and fifty miles, all before the sun comes up,
Mornin’ traffic’s not my style, empty is my coffee cup.
Rollin’ down a ruthless highway, tired from the rising sun,
All night long, I’ve had things my way, now I’m not the only one.
