Overdrive Magazine | Trucking Business News & Owner Operator Info
Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/805422
Voices 6 | Overdrive | April 2017 Telling the truth is still important, even if it's not particularly popular right now. The current climate is to tell one lie to combat another, and it's not working out for the best. I'm not sure if people are lying more or if they just have access to so much information that they know a lot easier when someone else is lying, but it's become an issue in our society. George always knows when I'm lying, mostly because I have a habit of saying "That could possibly be a filthy lie," or I begin the lie with "I have it on good authority." There are other tells, and they usually have to do with me doing something in the truck I'm not supposed to do while he's driving. We have a $5 knife we got at a truck stop that is so sharp it could cut the hair off a boar. (This could be a filthy lie, as I have never attempted boar hair removal with this knife or any other.) The blade is so thin, it's useless for anything other than fileting your finger wide open or cutting croissants with the precision of a gamma ray. I've hurt myself with this knife, and yet I can't resist its crois- sant-cutting prowess. I agreed that it would be highly dangerous for me to use the five-dol- lar knife while the truck is moving, but sometimes hunger and boredom override common sense. Here's where the "I'm not actually lying, I'm avoiding the question" tactics come in. I'm not proud of it, people, it's just part of the story. "I'm hungry, how about some sam- miches?" "Sounds good, it's going to be a while before we stop." I jump in the back and realize I forgot to slice the croissants while we were stopped, and the bread is smashed because some heathen has thrown his hard hat in the wrong cubby and crushed it. I really have no choice other than to use the five-dollar knife to complete the task. I attempt to quietly open it, but Captain "I can only hear things you're not supposed to be doing" notices the distinctive "click" of the five-dollar knife's blade. "You're not using that knife, are you?" "I'm not doing what?" He knew. There was no escaping it. Delay was all that could save me. "Please don't use that knife while I'm driving. I need to get rid of that thing." I had one croissant cut without incident, and I was totally going for the second. "Don't use what knife?" If Jesus had been in the truck, I know he would have slapped me, but raggedy croissants don't lead to good sandwich- es. "Babe, please be careful. I don't need to have you bleeding all over the place." Victory. Two precision-crafted crois- sant sammie wraps, ready for filling. Unfortunately, the victory was soured by the "disappointed dad" look I got when I handed him his lovely sandwich. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't open that knife while we were rolling." Here's where I had an opportunity to make things right with George and Jesus, but I'm just too much of a sinner at times. "Which knife?" Sometimes the truth is hard. Wendy Parker chronicles her journey on the road with her owner-operator husband, George, in the George and Wendy Show blog on OverdriveOnline.com. Scan the QR to read more from her on your phone or tablet. The biggest difference from the old days and now with a CB is that in the 1970s, there were fewer trucks on the road and no way to just call for help if you needed help. Even pay phones were only in towns. As a trucker, you were on your own, except for other truck drivers. So you made a lot of friends on the road. … Truckers, take back your lives and get rid of the negative talk on the CB. And when you stop at the truck stop, go meet your fellow drivers and make friends. I will see you out there. The truth cuts deeply Do not use while rolling. Even if Wendy does it. Step up to the mic, drivers — Kenneth Williams, in response to Scott LeVan's tale, published in the February issue, about an unheeded CB radio warning prior to a winter crash in Pennsylvania