Today I learned that I’m actually a trucker, regardless of the fact that I don’t hold a CDL or have any clue as to how to drive one of these things. No, I’m a trucker because I identify with my inner driver. I didn’t draw myself with the Freightliner-colored crayon when I was young, but I did marry a trucker, and we have children who are at least half trucker, so I’m a trucker. I’m more of a trucker than anyone who works for the FMCSA, that’s for damn sure.
As we make our way across America this time, I am once again knocked out by the sheer beauty and magnificence of this country. I’ve always been extremely patriotic — I cry every single time I hear the National Anthem (I’m a blast to have around at ball games) and I will break my arm to keep a flag from touching the ground, but actually being able to see first hand the glory of the place we call home intensifies my feelings of awe and appreciation for America tenfold.
We’ll wrap up our cross-country in Yakima, Wash., next week, and head back toward the East Coast. It will be the last time we come across hauling a box, so it’s the end of this trucking chapter in our lives. There’s a step deck adventure waiting for us, and I can’t wait to get on it.
God bless America, and God bless the truckers. Now get out there and see something worth telling your grandkids about!