I’ve had a great life, a crazy life, no regrets, came close to making the big time a few times, and I had lots of success along the way.
Now I’m 72, with a great wife and a great 18 year old son, living in a house that my Dad built with his buddies back in 1948 on a lake in Connecticut.
Got up this morning at 1:45am, even though my alarm was set for 2:18am. Did my back roller and my 30 push-ups, then had my coffee eggs and toast before climbing in the car and driving 35 minutes to Prides Corner’s Farm to start my day as truck driver at 3:18am.
The driving to major garden centers and huge Landscape wholesaler’s is the easy part of the job. Sitting behind the wheel driving for 2 or 3 hours before the first stop turns this old body into cement, and it takes considerable effort to loosen up while slowly climbing out of the truck. Swinging the arms and shrugging the shoulders while slowly and carefully walking towards the receiving office is a reality check.
The 48 Foot trailer holds about 36, 4X4 carts loaded with 3 or 4 shelves of potted plants, small shrubs, and trees, with the larger trees on the floor in 10 gallon buckets.
Unloading all this to the end of the trailer and onto the lift gate for the forklift driver, takes its toll on your arms, shoulders and legs, add in the cold, darkness and snow.
This is what I gave up sleeping in my truck as an “Over the Road” driver for.
Now, even though my work days are 12 to 14 hours long I get to sleep in my own bed. Which is about all I am good for in the height of this industry’s busy season April thru June.
At this juncture, making good sandwiches the night before has become an important part of my life.
Once back at the farm, there is no time to relax, in fact now more than any other time of the day my focus must remain 100%, because there is paperwork, primitive math, refueling, and dropping the trailer, to be done.
So why do I do this? Why aren’t I retired, living the good life like so many of my “Friends” posts on Face Book?
Standing on the side lines during my son’s lacrosse, soccer and now football games in Old Lyme, CT. a quaint little, puritan village on the Connecticut shoreline, I feel like I’m in the “Witness Protection Program” with the life I’ve lead. I joke with my truck driving friends that the only reason the townspeople let us live here is because my wife has a Volvo station wagon, we have 2 Labrador Retrievers’ and our son is on the varsity.
At some point soon, I have to flash back 50 to 52 years or so and write the ultimate book on this rambling, Kerouac, life I have led.
The songs on the radio in the dawn’s early light, bring back an amazing array of memories and questions about the price I am currently paying for the audaciousness of the life I have led.