Goin’ Unnoticed

FebPoem1Diversity is what keeps everything from becoming predictable and boring. As we roll down the road, we are blessed to see an ever-changing landscape and completely unique and individual people. As for the rigs we roll, I find that my head turns to take an extended glance at an ultra-clean and fancy rig, but I’ll also take particular notice to the mistreated and abused rigs, as well (as do the DOT officers). But, for every head-turning big rig I see, dozens more pass by unnoticed. Not everyone is particularly interested in a rolling showpiece, but that doesn’t mean they don’t care to operate a well-maintained ride. Some folks are perfectly content to go unnoticed. They are fine not running triple digits across the Salt Flats, yet you can bet they won’t be found holding up traffic at an obscenely-slow pace, either. They might not shell out hundred dollar bills on candy paints and runway lights, but they won’t compromise safety by driving a rattling death-trap, by any means. If you’re the kind of truck driver who just gets the job done with silent integrity and understated elegance – the one in the plain ride, where all five gauges work, sporting dull satin silver aluminum wheels with no lug nut caps – the driver of the one-stack Mack with a shack on the back – the one who merrily melts in with the scenery – to you, I give a single horn toot-salute and dedicate this poem.

By Trevor Hardwick

I don’t have a ride with bells and whistles,
I don’t drive a torn up old machine.
I ain’t got the best rig, or the worst one,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

I don’t roll the left lane with a vengeance,
I don’t roll the right lane pickin’ weeds.
I’m not called a hot rod, or a slowpoke,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

Sometimes I’m the guy who needs a wash,
Sometimes I’m the one who’s bright and clean.
Heads don’t turn, to see what my rig looks like,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

Mediocre makes me feel like something,
I don’t take my image to extremes.
A rock star or a hobo, I’m not either,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

Fancy chrome and lights are for the next guy,
Some guys roll in junk to chase the dream.
Plain-Jane-Sane and pain free, is my motto,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

I don’t spare expenses on my maintenance,
I don’t spend my money to be seen.
I’m not loud and proud, but I’m not silent,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

I ain’t sayin’ I’m a perfect angel,
I’m a wretched sinner yet redeemed.
I ain’t been to Heaven or to Hell, though,
I guess I’m just somewhere in between.

About Trevor Hardwick

Trevor Hardwick is a 3rd generation truck driver who has been in love with all things truck-related since he was “delivered” (pun intended). When he was a kid, Trevor began using artwork and poetry as a means of staying connected to trucking, and still loves doing it today. Trevor lives in Stanwood, Washington with his wife Alicia, and has been a regular contributor to 10-4 Magazine since January of 2008. Alicia puts up with Trevor’s love affair with trucks and also shares his outspoken devotion to their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.