Don’t we all remember our first time? There’s a first time for everything, and while the lines in this poem don’t accurately reflect my own “first time” experiences, I think it might help some folks out there to see the early, tell-tale warning signs of a behavior pattern and/or circumstantial evidence of a person bound for a life on the road. Personally, I can relate the most to the last paragraph – it’s a brain teaser, but I find it eerily true. If you were to think back on your own life, especially those developmental and impressionable years, would you remember things that you’ve done or behavioral patterns that may have indicated that you were born to truck? I know I can recall many such memories. Admittedly, I was somewhat of a lost cause when it came to anyone trying to talk me out of my desire to drive a truck. I would not let it go. Everything I did revolved around trucks! Now, I’m certain we can all remember our first time behind the wheel of a big rig. For some, it may have been fairly recently and for others, like me, it was at a young age (perhaps on a farm or sitting on dad’s lap and just taking the wheel for a moment – that would be burned into your memory like nothing else). But, then again, some have yet to take the wheel. If you’re reading this and wondering if you’ve really got it in you to give it a try, well, my friends, there’s a first time for everything!
By Trevor Hardwick
My first breath was a gasp with diesel smoke.
One might think a breath like that,
Would make you wanna choke.
There’s nothin’ like the taste of diesel,
Burnin’ in your throat…
But my first breath was a gasp of diesel smoke!
My first words were mom and dad and truck.
They tried to teach me other words,
But that’s where I was stuck.
They must have known that all three,
Would do their part to raise me up…
But my first words were mom and dad and truck!
My first steps were walkin’ out the door.
I couldn’t stand to be cooped up,
Nor could I sit still anymore.
A constant change of scenery,
Is what I was lookin’ for…
So my first steps were walkin’ out the door!
Lookin’ back, that’s how it all began.
Is it any wonder I became,
A travelin’ man?
Little bits of history,
That made me who I am…
And lookin’ back, that’s how it all began!
My first love was an unforgiving road.
Caught up in her promises,
And stories that she told.
The old men tried to tell me,
She was beautiful but cold…
But my first love was an unforgiving road!
My first feel of freedom was the wheel.
I grabbed a hold with all my might,
And that’s when I felt real.
Sweet vibrations coursing,
From my hands down to my heels…
And my first feel of freedom was the wheel!
My first look at lonely was the line.
It lured me away from a life,
I once called mine.
It’s always there beside me,
I can see it all the time…
But my first look at lonely was the line!
Half of my first “second thoughts” are gone.
But on second thought,
My first thoughts could be wrong.
I’ve had my second thoughts,
That I’ve been on the road too long…
But half of my first “second thoughts” are gone!