OLD SCHOOL GIRLS
A Poem by Tammy Stoner
There once was a time when only a few did the deal,
And it was extremely rare, to see a girl at the wheel.
Showers for a girl weren’t glorious at all,
Standing on a pallet, next to a big block wall.
This was of course after the men’s room would close,
It was either that, or an outside garden hose.
The bears were friendly and gave you respect,
4-wheelers and big rigs, were circumspect.
Those were the days of the ICC,
Nothing like today, dealing with DOT.
Inspections were about safety tried and true,
Not like today, based around revenue.
A working pay phone was in high demand,
Like a cow at milking time, in line she would stand.
One check call a day was all that she did,
It wasn’t like today, being treated like a kid.
Social media was a CB on channel nineteen,
Or a friendly hand gesture, could easily be seen.
Wireless communication was a truck stop cork board,
You left your friends notes, and there was no discord.
Folks said trucks weren’t for girls in those days,
But push forward them gals did, and a trail was blazed.
This section is for drivers only she would often be told,
It took a very strong girl, to sit down and be bold.
Get back in the kitchen was the common theme,
The boys would not accept them, or so it would seem.
Hauling swinging meat wasn’t nearly enough,
Those old-school girls, they had to be tough.
Shifting them gears and holding your lane,
Was taught by her dad, and she dare not complain.
On occasion she would cry but never let them boys see,
If they only would accept her, for the driver she could be.
When she would set up her truck to back into a dock,
Everyone stared, as if she had stopped time on a clock.
That two track trail the early gals blazed through,
Is now a paved highway, that many girls pursue.
Most things have changed drastically over time,
And many girls today, can say “That truck is mine.”
Them old-school gals were the mother of pearls,
And the real reason why nowadays, trucks “ARE” for girls!
1 Comment
I rode with my daddy from age 10 to 17 in logging trucks off the Cascade Mtns. I wanted to drive a logging truck when I got old enough. Daddy said more than once,” you will have to work harder being a girl”. However by the time I was old enough I was no longer allowed to ride with him. He taught me what he could. I married a boy who wanted to be a trucker. He got to, I had to wait. I did not get to begin until 1974. It was all right to be a co-driver by then. There were no facilities for us even then. When he no longer wanted to be married to a truck driver (1982) I faced it on my own. Limited facilities, had to listen to crude comments “taking the job away from a family man”. Honestly! Hand unloading those floor loads, learning to use a manual and electric floor jack on the rare occasion of palletized load, or pay out of my pocket to a “lumper”. But I so enjoyed driving. Daddy did not live long enough to know I made, but I always have kept his training in my driving habits. Careful, safe, courteous. I am 74 years old now, still driving, no more hassles. Driving for a great small company in my home town. Still passing my D.O.T. physical, keeping that C.D.L. Still enjoying driving.