Trucker Honour, Faith and Peril

Trucker Honour, Faith and Peril Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2020

Muskoka Roads

The rock speaks of hard passage

Blasted through in post war days

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Conifers noted the newcomers

But lakes would not move

Hence all the curious winding.

Sparrow with white throat

Sang your welcome unconditionally.

Billowing clouds free from structure

Of tree plantings or roadside stands.

They just mosy on to startling

Images with sunset red

Over some lake

Where gulls yodel their admiration

And traverse the snapshot making it alive

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And wild

And unpredictable

And unlike anything

Big cities offer in their

Clamour and rush.

Here you come for brisk mornings

Serene water pauses

Chuckling rapids descending

Clean air adding years and smiles.

And down this particular corridor

The big Algonquin Park

Critters spruces birches and canoes

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Waiting for the adventuresome

Sons and daughters

Of Champlain.

Singing back to the loons.

Or Trucker Toby

Pushing it through

To the capital.

And knowing many of the moose stories.

Wave a Trucker On Through on A ​ ugust 17, 20​11 Do something nice for a trucker, please. These guys put in so many days which would try the patience of the gentlest person you know.

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They take longer to stop; more space to turn; need more visibility than they are ever afforded to back up. They approach many a loading dock which was only designed for "straight trucks" (24 feet) over thirty years ago.

These men and women are often told to hurry up as much as possible in the on-loading of a shipment and in the drive to a customer's shop or job site. Upon arrival they find no receiver present. In a phone call they are told, "Oh, Charlie is also overseeing another job about 20 miles distant.

Give him a call at *** and then probably in about 40 minutes you'll have your men and machinery". It is the classic "hurry up...and wait" scenario.

They are constantly expected to make the quick stop or lane change in heavy traffic. Other motorists will only comment, "They are professionals. They should be up for this". I know of one driver who came into our plant all white-faced with the passenger side of his truck cab all smashed forward. An erratic change by a small car in front had required braking. His load consisted of bundles of banded hollow tubing, quite greasy. The middle items of one bundle had telescoped forward in the stopping. When he heard the noise he thought for an instant that he

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was a dead man. And incidentally, his company had not taken effort at that time to install "headache boards" at the front of flat-bed trailers to protect cab and driver. All that got changed of course, after the fact.

Let us not forget the heated traffic jams, the accidents, the construction closures, the no truck street signs, the piled up weigh scale lines, the regulatory controls on weight, width and length or the picky MTO compliance officers in the green and white cars. In spite of all, it is often the trucker who has the compassion to stop at a roadside emergency to render assistance. Some corporate fleets have made this mandatory, with exceptional first-aid training thrown in as well.

For additional input on health, personal, financial and emotional stresses faced by truckers, consider our earlier post entitled "Ready to Give the Reason" (October 19, 2010).

Perhaps some of the above will coax you to give a trucker a break. He deserves it.

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GOOD SAMARITAN​ I​ DENTIFICATION​ T ​ ESTS WILL COME

Interstate on ​April 10, 2015

Ten-thirty PM and Rick was tired as he rolled into the gaudy and glaring service centre. Roads here in Indiana were very well kept and the “bears” didn’t seem to make a nuisance of themselves. Cruisers in these parts usually meant help and not harassment. Couldn’t say the same for the Home State.

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Left her idling and stepped down for the prudent walk-about. Some funny noises from the back left had him a little concerned.

Concerned! That was an under-statement these days. A blizzard and a white-out had put him in the ditch up in Wisconsin six weeks ago.

Insurance adjustment on the damage proved a real battle of second-guessing and pencil-sharpening. That didn’t mean that the payments had stopped; that the Boss or Dispatcher had shown any significant compassion or patience. And Rachel was showing the signs of stress while trying valiantly to bring in some sunshine.

He would have to phone her inside before taking some dinner. Wedding anniversary was only 3 days away. He just had to be home. There was one more leg and shipment on the inbound. Hopefully no complications or last minute changes. Last year he had been deep in the South picking up a load of fruit and had missed their day.

Now circuiting the truck with tire iron and checking inflation. He didn’t realize that he had picked the darkest corner of the lot. Probably just tended away from the glare.

Suddenly a tap on the shoulder from behind, and unexpected words “Hi Fella”. He whirled around and almost unintentionally swung out with his

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piece of steel. But NO…it was just a young girl in a short red skirt with a questionable smile on her face.

The smile got larger and she pointed over to three vans to the rear and right of his trailer about ninety feet. Two had doors closed but interior lights on. The third was dark. She pointed over with her thumb to that third one and muttered “Wanna play?”

Rick just stood there mute with a sense of the muscles in his face tightening and a lump in his throat. It seemed that he was thinking much too long about this. “Things have been rough Buddy. Who would know?”

And then one of the 2 occupied vans opened and a big man stumbled out giggling in a way that would certainly embarrass him in a fitter frame of mind.

Rick finally spoke. “No little girl…too much of the good back at home.

But then I don’t suppose you know much about home. I’m sorry for that.

Do you know that I just about clocked you with this piece of steel?”

Walk Into a Miracle

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on J ​ anuary 31, 2010

A casual decision to have a little discomfort in the chest checked out. An uncommon sick-call to the workplace. No truck hauling of steel this July day. A drive into St.Mary's Hospital from Elmira. A simple examination turned into a barrage of diagnostic tests under the heart specialist's supervision. And surprising, bracing news:

"Barry, as I see it, you have three options. We have discovered massive deterioration of vessels in and around the heart. You may go home and die within the next few days. You may accept multiple by-pass surgery and die on the table. You may survive the surgery, but suffer kidney failure."

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Within hours he was undergoing the surgery, under the supervision of both kidney and heart specialists. Surprisingly the procedure took half the allotted time. The kidneys were saved. The heart reconstructed.

During his month of hospital stay, and much to his surprise, Barry was visited each day by the kidney doctor or by some appointed substitute.

He didn't think that busy doctors had such time available. His wife and church friends from Elmira Pentecostal Assembly were a frequent encouragement.

But one day, a jarring revelation from the heart surgeon: "Barry the real battle is fought now, and it is one almost all middle -aged men in your situation encounter. Depression. That sucker kills. I must say, and I am not a religious man, that your case has shown several signs of supernatural intervention. Now, do battle with this new threat in your mind."

Shortly after the doctor left, my friend experienced some heaviness and tears. Some visiting nurses saw him in this state and could not avoid the tears themselves. He had appeared so upbeat. Sort of a cranky, persistent

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sense of humour. Not a man at first blush manifesting the meekness and moderation of the believer. All-weather trucker. Baseball coach. Family man.

Shortly thereafter in the quiet of his room, Barry did business with God. Confessing that he simply would not yield to the depression, come what may. "Father it is now time for you to have your way and do what you want."

He relates that a strange warmth started at the top of his head and went down through the entire body, completely relaxing him. Never before had Barry experienced anything like this. Not the emotional type.

Undeniably he had been visited, and personally comforted.

Last night, approximately six months later, Barry told me this story at Elmira Pentecostal Assembly at the fourteenth annual Sportsman's Dinner and Program. Discussing a miracle in the midst of a crowd of happy men tasting perch, moose, deer, bear, wild boar, rabbit, buffalo and other uncommon culinary delights. There was Barry, front and centre in the team of hosting, cooking, serving men of God.

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I am certain that the life-changing, life-saving impact of this encounter is far from over. "That's my story," he says, "and I'm sticking to it."

HEARING HIM​ K ​ EPT BY GOD​ ​MEDICINAL

Inter-State Argonauts

It’s seven hours to Pittsburgh And the rig is running rough.

But the load is worth a bundle Soon will fix things, sure enough.

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I haven’t seen the sunshine In the last four drizzling days.

And the wife has missed my phone calls.

How she hopes the new boss pays.

I’m thankful for the mileage And the triple-city link.

Yes, the shut-down at the last place Brought us nearly to the brink.

I miss her more each outbound And the boy just hit thirteen.

But the getting’s good this season After months of living lean.

Ahead, I see the flashers And the red flares through the haze.

Buddy jack-knifed at a hairpin.

He’ll be out for several days.

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I see him by the squad car.

Sorting out the clean-up plan.

Was it four months back-the diner?

I had roast beef with that man!

We traded favourite stories.

Some of bright days on the ‘pike.

Some of weariness and set-back.

It’s the road, the road, we like.

I’ll have to hit the shoulder Watching out for gravel drift.

Offer up a drive, some cold-cuts For this Brother needs a lift.

BRUISED CORN IS BREAD​ ​HEARTS AND HEADS TOGETHER POETRY​ ​SIMPLE GRACE

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