Opinion: Life on the Road

By Shelli Sexton

rofessional driver since 1996

I am a female truck driver. I used to run solo, but then started running team so that myself and my team member could stay legal in our logbooks.

We both love to drive, but it is not an easy job. We are forced to stay away from our families for as much as three weeks at times. Lucky drivers work for companies that get them home more often. But for the most part, a truck driver is out on the road for at least two weeks. The only contact we have with our families is the telephone, which causes money problems — because of the high rates the phone companies charge not only for the phone call but also the surcharge for the payphone.

As a truck driver, I have seen a lot of things: four-wheelers cutting a big truck off, or not allowing it to enter the highway from a ramp; playing games such as hanging out in a driver’s blind zone (the No Zone) or racing to get in front only to hit their brakes, and after we pass them they do it again. Then we have to deal with the shippers and receivers who believe it is the driver’s job to load and unload but still be 1,000 miles away in less than 24 hours (even if you didn’t pick up the load until 18 of those hours were up).

Then there are the brokers. They are a different story. You call them in the morning and they tell you, “We are working on your load; call me back in a half hour.” We play that game until, if we are lucky, 5 or 6 p.m., when they say we have to go 150 miles away but be there before 7 p.m. Which, of course, is impossible. So we have to wait until the next morning to load.

We pick up a load at 2 p.m. in Dallas only to be told that if we can make it to Norfolk, Va., by 2 p.m. the next day, they’ll take the load off. So, we drive straight through, only to get within 75 miles of our destination to discover we have problems getting fuel because the account number we were given by the broker is not valid. By the time we get everything straightened out and get fuel, we realize we cannot make it before the receiver closes. So what should have been a two-day run turns into a four-day run: We waited the first day to get our load information, the next day to get loaded, the day driving, and now we have to sit the rest of this day because we can’t get unloaded until morning.

Once we are unloaded, we have to wait to find out if we can get a load home. After waiting a few hours, we are told to deadhead back so that we can cover a weekend load. By the way, owner-operators are not paid for that deadhead run.

When we make it home, we have to do our trip paperwork, finish our logs and wash our laundry. Now we get to spend a little time with our families, put the children to bed and look at the mail that came in while we were on the road. It’s 1 a.m. and time to go to bed.

Next morning, up at 8 a.m., go to the office, turn in the paperwork so that the boss can get paid for our trips and we, in turn, get our paychecks. We find out what our next trip is and when and where we load. We learn that we won’t leave until that night, so we go home, clean out the truck, wash out the trailer so the shipper will load it, finish the laundry and figure out which bills have to be paid so that they are not overdue the next time we get home. We eat dinner.

Then it is time to get back in the big truck and start another run.

This is the life of the truck driver. If you still think we have it so easy or that all truck drivers are bad, then I guess the average person would take our job.

Like that would ever happen.