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I have a CDL. I went through truck diving school to drive an 18-wheeler. I spent very little time on the road, however, unlike some women who do this for a living.
Driving is hard enough on men, so can sometime prove even more difficult for women who are often smaller in frame and height. Too often we forget that women do this for a living. Yes, they choose it, and are quite often wonderful at it.
Truck driving gives one a sense of freedom to some extent. Just drive the truck, get where you’re going, and no one heckles you (or so you hope!). You don’t have to stay in the same area as your boss either which is great. But, there are downsides too. Bad weather, for one. It’s not safe often for ladies to be on the road alone. Traffic…because car driver DO NOT know how to drive around trucks. And I mean, none of you. You think trucks are like cars, SUVs or pickup trucks, but that’s absolutely not true. I once wrote a MySpace blog about how to…or not to…drive around trucks. I think I shall write a WordPress blog about that too so I can education my wonderful readers on driving around trucks. I’m sure you’ll go…”I had no idea”…at least once.
But in the meantime, I’d like to leave you with this. And I hope you’ll think about it a bit. Maybe, it might even encourage some of the ladies to look at driving a rig as a career. The author of this is unknown so far.
SHE IS A TRUCK DRIVER
She’s a big girl, she’s a small girl.
She comes in all sizes and shapes: short, tall, skinny and fat.
Laughing and serious, happy and sad.
She’s transportation with a grin on her face; distribution with a cocked left eyebrow.
She’s progress with diesel fumes in her hair. She makes her living holding 10 tons of steel in her hands. She has highways in her eyes. She’s a truck driver.
She hauls milk for the nation’s babies, dresses for the nation’s ladies.
Steel for our country’s defense, and bread for the nation’s breakfast tables.
She likes straight highways, slot machines that payoff, friendly cops and bonus checks.
The road’s her home. She drives today so the world can live tomorrow.
Laughing, she’s tough enough to hold her cargo against a hurricane, and gentle enough to stop 10 tons of wheeled steel to let a 12 ounce kitten cross the road.
She can tell you where to get the best piece of apple pie on the highway, and where the radar traps are, and which road to take to make the fastest time.
She hates, in the order named, phonies, road-hogs, tough traffic cops, highway weigh stations, small town justices of the peace, steep hills, cackling cargo, and a weak coffee.
She’s America on wheels. She’s big business with a road map in her pocket. She’s a truck driver.
Without her, there would be no gasoline to run the nation’s automobiles, no steel to make the machines, no concrete to build the highways, no merchandise to spin the wheels of trade.
She has eyes that look over mountains; she likes to see the other side of hills.
She eats better than bankers, dresses like a Texas rancher, is more independent than a newly elected senator. She’s an authority on politics, highway construction, baseball, and the best way to run a trucking company.
She likes the feel of the night wind on her face and the sound of a purring motor.
She lives by the code of the road and passes no man by who needs a helping hand.
She’s got problems and is not bashful in airing complaints about the state of the world at large.
Every trip she threatens to get off the road and live like other women, but she never does. The highway is a flirting Lorelei who hums a haunting tune for the women who chase the horizon on spinning wheels. And when the tires sing, the road is straight, and the moon is bright on a ribbon of cross country highway, she’s the happiest, most useful woman in America. She’s a truck driver.
-Author unknown
Interesting… Take a look.
Most of the writers I’ve known over the decades had one goal in mind – publication. They reached for the gold standard of traditional publishing. Most of them never got there. It usually had little to do with their talent.
Many of these writers deserved better. They should have been published. Their work was excellent, polished and moving. But, somewhere along the line, they gave up. They reached an impenetrable bulwark that sidetracked their work and talent. It was the wall of rejection and, for some very talented writers, it was too much to overcome.
Rejection is a tough issue for anyone. In the world of writing, it’s inevitable. For those writers who set the gold standard of publication for themselves, it sometimes became the breaking point. Understandable, right?. However, for those writers who eventually made it through the desert of rejection, there was a potent reward waiting.
The question…
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OMG!
Hmmm…I think I’ll work on this one.
HALLOWEEN PARTY
Goblins, ghouls, ghosts and vampires
All dressed up in their party attire
Daring mortals to come out and play
Taunting us onward ‘til the break of day
They hide in the shadows of Halloween night
And slip in and out of the glow of Halloween lights
They follow us then, trying to frighten mortals
And when we dare a peek, they vanish into portals
It was Halloween night and a little chilly
I was dressed in a costume and felt so silly
Going to a party dressed like a mouse
Assured to be laughed at by all in the house
I went to the address listed on the invitation
Scared out of my wits, afraid for my preservation
The yard was scary and full of mummies
And gigantic black spiders looking for yummies
I saw a zombie peeking out from behind a tree
And another bound in chains, moaning to be free
I saw a vampire with a glowing white face
Woe is me, I was becoming a basket case
Scurrying along the path to the front door
I witnessed all sorts of blood and gore
There were crying crows and screeching witches
And a couple of hands sticking up from ditches
And from somewhere in the distance
I heard a girl screaming with resistance
Walk I did as briskly as able
My feet moving, yet I felt unstable
I spotted a graveyard far off to the right
I felt my throat dry up and get tight
As I tried to swallow down my fright
I kept the dimly lit porch in my sight
I hurried along this scary path to the door
And finally came upon steps adorned by gargoyles galore
I climbed the stairs, stepping ‘round florescent-green slime
Unlike anything I’d ever seen before this time
When I climbed to the top of the stairs
To my left was a skeleton with absolutely no hair
He was holding a bowl of eyeballs of brown and blue
And from where he got them, I had no clue
On my right there was a witch dressed in black
With eyes glowing green that took me aback
I held my breath as she said to me,
“Welcome to my Halloween party”
I rushed to the big black front door
Which was adorned with even more
Frightening things for my sight
Such as a pumpkin with eyes burning bright
As I stood in front of the daunting entrance
I took a deep breath to fight my resistance
To knock on the door with the lion-headed knocker
But knock I did, and that was a shocker
After a few moments Frankenstein opened
The big creaky door to invite me
Into the creepy old mansion
And I could feel my body tighten with more tension
“Good evening,” he said
I could feel pain building in my head
I nodded to him and fear took hold
As I walked across the door’s threshold
I sauntered inside but in just a few moments
My worry eased as I saw a house full pumpkins
With smiling faces as my friends did greet me
And offer me cake and a glass of iced tea
I saw them at the party, they were all there
My friend Sally was dressed as Cher
And my old boyfriend Stan wore hair
Of green and held in his hand a cold beer
I saw vampires cavorting at a snack table
But these guys weren’t from any fable
They were my friends, Doug, Sam and Rig
And I knew this party would be a great gig
Then I saw Andy and Nancy
They were dressed in costumes fancy
Like Samson and Delilah
Or was it Antony and Cleopatra?
I took in the sights and sounds
Oh my, there were goodies all around
And flashing orange lights hung in windows
Causing cheer and casting shadows
There were even a couple bales of hay
Where upon sat food trays
From a ceiling fan hung a ghost
And dressed in black, there was our host
On the staircase was sitting a scarecrow
That looked pretty creepy but mellow
Then I realized it was my friend, Daisy
Who was tipsy and feeling a lil’ lazy
I reached into a bowl of candy
And got a fright dandy
When a gross hand tried to grab me
Before I could get a treat to eat
As I walked about I saw
A dragon with big claws
Talking to a mermaid
Holding a glass of red Kool-aid
The tables were adorned in holiday
Table cloths in a nice array
Of orange and black
With ghosts and big-eyed cats
A crystal pumpkin dish
Held candy corns delish
And atop a case of books
Sat a real tabby cat named Nooks
Who seemed not to mind strangers in his house
Or the fact that I was dressed as a mouse
The party was just getting started
And around the rooms my eyes still darted
An ice sculpture of a vampire bat
In the middle of a big round table sat
With champagne-punch flowing
Surrounded by candles all glowing
There were sticky spider webs
Hung from walls, rafters and even people’s heads
But yet, no one was filled with dread
All were happy and so laughter spread
Loud and clear jazz music played
And amusement was merrily displayed
So I decided to heck with the ghouls
I’ll stay awhile shoot some pool
As I listened to the not-so spooky jazz
Across the room I saw a devil named Taz
And he laughed as Ken and Barbie
Bobbed for apples hardily
I had a great conversation ‘bout gore and ick
With a fairy who stirred her cider with a cinnamon stick
Then I hung out with a guy named, Dolph
Who was clearly dressed as a big bad wolf
My fears had all diminished
As I mingled with many of the delightfully devilish
And so I became quite curious
There was just no reason to be serious
As the night wore thin and the sun
Threatened our joy and fun
Ghosts, witches, and vampires alike
Along with a biker dude named Spike
Ran off into what was left of the night
Taking with them a guy and his kite,
Casper, Freddie, Attila the Hun
And then there was that very small nun
They went back to their favorite haunts
To climb under covers and get some sleep
And dream of next year’s spooky jaunts
Of course, I’ll be there despite the creeps
‘Cause nothing’s better than a happy Halloween
Full of fun, food, friends, and a few screams
Dressed as a black cat I’ll go next year
And I swear, next time, I’ll show no fear.
Copyright 2010 Wanda S. Paryla
MINDLESS BEHIND THE WHEEL
Why is it that every time we get behind the steering wheel of our vehicle, we lose our minds? Oh yes, you see it all the time. You see it… Yes, you. You see other drivers doing the most oddball things, or mindless things, even things that piss you off. But do they ever catch you doing dumb crap? Why, yes, yes they do. No, don’t deny it. You can’t. Do you know why? Well, I’ll tell you. Most of the time, you don’t know that you’re even doing anything stupid, or wrong. And if you do know you’re being an idiot, it does not register that other drivers can see you.
It is all psychological. When we get into our cars, we forget that our window glass is all two-way. Everyone can see us, yet we forget that. So we do dumb things. Some things cannot be helped, maybe. But others are just passing thoughts that our bodies respond to.
I recently started a new job. I drive usually 45 minutes to get to work and sometimes longer to get home. I’ve never had to drive that long to get to any job before in my life. My longest drive was 25 minutes one way. And oh boy!…Do I see some funny stuff. And sometimes some dangerous stuff.
You see it all: nose picking, nose blowing, eating, drinking, smoking, texting, ear digging, ass picking, even other things you wish you’d never seen…such as people having a little “fun” with themselves, if you get my drift. Or maybe having “fun” with someone else.
My funniest story is I was driving for about 2 miles behind this guy. I thought he was talking on his cell phone because he had his right hand and arm in such a position. But then, I noticed the shape near his head. I worried that it was a pistol he had held to his head. Should I call 911? What do I say? Do I follow him? Oh God!…After about 2 miles, he finally pulled his finger out of his ear.
Now, the next thing that shocked me was how the woman next to me decided to take off her bra while she was driving. I mean, okay. No, she wasn’t even discreet about it.
How many times do I see people driving and smoking marijuana. Really? I don’t care what marijuana advocates say, it still impairs judgment and one should not be doing that while they’re driving just like one should not be drinking and driving.
Another thing I encountered, in fact it was just Friday on the way home, a dude driving alone, in traffic. I’m behind him for 5 minutes. The woman driving to the left of him kept watching him and swerving. Then I realized what she was looking at when the head of this girl popped up in the passenger seat next to that guy. Being behind him, I had no idea he had company in the car with him. Okay?…Another thing you should do at home.
And to that person I’ve run into a couple of times in the Trans Am. Yes, you, with that license plate that reads “Rdy Aym.” What are you aiming at?…Well if you don’t drive faster you’ll never reach your target. At least we can do the speed limit. Oh, & about that plate #. If you don’t want anyone to comment on it on the internet, then don’t get rid of that number. (Here’s me praying the car doesn’t belong to a cop and now he’s going to hunt me down like a fugitive.)
Also, to that blondie that kept blowing that horn this past Friday on 55th St…No one’s going anywhere! Stop blowing the horn. Traffic is bumper to bumper you dimwitted asshat. If you don’t like other cars, move to the country and leave the rest of us the hell alone.
To that old lady with the 5 Dobermans in your Lexus. Can you please let one of them drive next time? I think they’d be better at it.
I roll up next to this guy eating McDonald’s. He’s shoveling that shit in like there was no tomorrow. Dude. It’s called lunch. If you’d eat lunch at work, you wouldn’t have a headache by the end of the day and turn into a pig.
And to that dark-haired woman who…yes, in the Ford Focus…who was talking on her cell, smoking a cigarette and trying to pop the top on a Pepsi can… Try putting the call phone down dumbass, before you attempt to open the can. Here’s what happened from my POV. Woman’s driving 35 mph, cigarette in one hand…same hand on the wheel, cell in the other hand. Next thing I know both hands are off the wheel while driving to open Pepsi can, cell phone now shouldered to her ear, Pepsi in one hand, cigarette in the hand trying to pop the tab while the car drives itself up onto the curb. Pepsi explodes, spewing all over the windshield and the driver. She slams on her breaks and hits a sign post. Me, I’m really, really pissed off as I’m behind her. However, I stayed my distance as I had a first-hand look as the story unfolded. I never saw a stupider person yet, but I’m sure I will soon enough.
Oh the things I have to endure on the road!
Exploring the World of Writing
Fantasy Author
Finding Hope Through Hardship
“All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
whispering life from the future
WANDA PARYLA 
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