Thirty-five ago I was walking past his house and he yelled, “Hey cutie.” That night he came where I worked and asked me out. I said yes, and then he left on the truck for Tennessee. While he was gone I became homeless so I asked his mother if I could stay there. She said yes. When he got back, I was staying in his sister’s room. We hit it off. From there on I had thee kids with him, and raised them while he was always gone. (I’ve) had the best time of my life with my husband and wouldn’t trade it for the world. Truckers have their own kind of life. They’re one of a kind. His grandfather, his father and then my husband taught his brothers how to drive and helped them get their own truck. Now he has taught our son how to drive. I could go on for days about how proud I am of my trucker husband, but I would start to cry. He’s my rock until the day death separates us. He still has the two trucks he got brand new; a 1985 K100 and a 1997 classic Freightliner that he still drives today. He’s the first to help anyone fix their truck if it comes to rebuilding the motor.
