{"id":47656,"date":"2025-07-01T18:33:18","date_gmt":"2025-07-01T22:33:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/?p=47656"},"modified":"2025-07-01T18:33:21","modified_gmt":"2025-07-01T22:33:21","slug":"seeking-some-solace","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/2025\/07\/poetry-in-motion\/seeking-some-solace\/","title":{"rendered":"Seeking Some Solace"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Back in \u201889 and \u201890, when I was about 12 or 13 years old, we were living on the outskirts of the northeast side of Amarillo, Texas. Dad was in his mid-30s and truckin\u2019 his tail off for Pirkle Freightlines. He had a big, bad chicken truck and an equally big CB radio to match the overall theme of being large and in charge. Being several years before the cell phone era, dad would call home a few times per week from a payphone, often cheating the collect-call charges by simply saying his location rather than his name and then hanging up before charges could be accepted for connecting the call. When he\u2019d notify us that he was a few hours away, I would go out to our Ford van and get on the Cobra radio and begin calling out for my dad. Sometimes, if the conditions were right, I could hear him on his big echo-mic\u2019d radio, hollering back at me, from as far away as the Oklahoma line. \u201cHow \u2018bout it, Trev? Got your ears on? Come-on back!\u201d The excitement was overwhelming to hear my dad\u2019s booming voice rattle that little external speaker. I don\u2019t know how true it is or isn\u2019t, but someone once told me that radio waves technically travel on forever. They just get drowned out by other frequencies and noises as they head off to infinity, and beyond. If that\u2019s true then, technically, my dad\u2019s booming, echoing voice is still traveling on the radio waves out there, somewhere beyond my reach. I find myself daydreaming about capturing those radio waves someday, just to hear him calling out to me. This poem attempts to capture that very same sentiment \u2013 of a truck driver who has lost a fellow driver, and friend, and they are seeking solace in the white noise on the CB radio, where they hope to hear their friend\u2019s voice, once more.<\/p>

COME-ON BACK!
By Trevor Hardwick<\/strong><\/p>

\u201cBreak one-nine\u2026\u201d
I give the mic a crack.
\u201cHave you got your ears on son,
Buddy, come-on back!\u201d<\/p>

Just to hear your voice,
Coming back to me\u2026
It\u2019s like music to my ears,
Buddy, can\u2019t you see?<\/p>

For a little while\u2026
You\u2019ve been out of range.
You\u2019ve been gone for far too long,
And I don\u2019t like change.<\/p>

I wonder where you are\u2026
I wonder what you see.
And I wonder if you hear my call,
Through this Galaxy.<\/p>

It\u2019s just a Road-King mic\u2026
On a Ninety-Nine.
Sending lots of watts and love,
To a friend of mine.<\/p>

Oh, I know you\u2019re gone\u2026
And it was way too soon.
But I like to think I\u2019ll find you,
With my Delta-Tune.<\/p>

I recall the times\u2026
We\u2019d be rollin\u2019 west.
And the miles we ran together,
Simply were the best!<\/p>

If the radio waves\u2026
From these Wilson whips.
Could carry my words forever,
Once they leave my lips!<\/p>

I\u2019d turn up the gain\u2026
And I\u2019d tell you this:
There\u2019s an echo in your voice,
That I truly miss!<\/p>

As the setting sun\u2026
Slowly fades to black.
And I roll that diesel smoke,
From a pair of stacks!<\/p>

I call out for you\u2026
And my voice just cracks.
That\u2019s a big Ten-Four, buddy,
Come-on back!<\/p>

<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Back in \u201889 and \u201890, when I was about 12 or 13 years old, we were living on the outskirts of the northeast side of Amarillo, Texas. Dad was in his mid-30s and truckin\u2019 his tail off for Pirkle Freightlines. He had a big, bad chicken truck and an equally big CB radio to match<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":47660,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-47656","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-poetry-in-motion"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47656","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=47656"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47656\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":47661,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47656\/revisions\/47661"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/47660"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=47656"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=47656"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tenfourmagazine.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=47656"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}