Old School Truckers! & that ole’ 66
In 1979 my father got up one morning at 5 am, he showered and put on his shirt, it resembled a DRESS shirt but was not formal, however gave a neat appearance, his jeans were clean but may have had a hole or two he slide on his work boots that often were a heavy duty cowboy boot ….then he would take a couple of minutes and dab a few swatches of brown shoe polish and buff them some---- nothing shiny, Just presentable! After all. He was getting up in the morning to greet the general public. He was not getting up for “just himself”.
He had his coffee in hand and started his pick-up truck, and allowed it to warm up… about 5 minutes or so, when driving to the shop he would stop by the local parts store to pick up some supplies for the truck, some zip ties, butt connectors, roll of electrical tape, 2 tubes of grease, oil, 1 jug of antifreeze, and a package of gloves. In the process he would talk to the local parts store owner, and have a real conversation about their lives, and sometimes matters of the heart and family, this was part of everyday routine, for folks who were warm and genuine.
When you converse with someone, we don’t always have to learn something, but the feeling walking away should be one that the discussion had some real life content….had some value, and did not include a lengthy debate about all of life’s social ills, it was generally positive in nature simple and uplifting.
When leaving the store dad would continue to the shop, this is a place where work is done.
As dad put the key in the door he would often look down at me and smile and say”
“You ready to be in the truck today kid”?
And I said yes…….
”well first we need to get the truck ready for the road so put on those cover-all’s” and go turn on the shop furnace",
As I sat there watching dad pull tools out of the drawer, I could smell the furnace warming up. Clink clink clink went the wrenches, onto the work bench, it was now time to pull out the creeper and get under the truck and grease the driveline and adjust the brakes… handing me the tape measure he went in the truck and I could hear him call out
“What we got?—I think I called out 1/2 or 5/8‘s, they are so close on the tape measure, but either way he showed me what to look for.
“And that is?
The minimum travel for the push rod dad”
"Excellent, now let’s do the rest"
Upon finishing the brakes, we then moved onto greasing the driveline, changed left head light, fixed one small wiring harness issue behind the glove box something rattled loose, and while fixing that, dad noticed a wire that had been rubbing and had shorted out, how did you know that dad?
"From the previous days once over, because this was daily routine, part of life when running a truck especially if you owned your own,
There was PRIDE & RESPONSIBILITY imagine that!
Upon completion of this work we would have a coffee and clean up the tools;
“Wipe that grease off the wrenches son” "I don’t want the tray liner to look like the “throw out bearing “This is another place where there is a grease fitting.
When dad was ready to start the truck he would tell me to turn off the furnace and grab the overhead door chain, and start lifting it up as he walked to the truck I would look back and say “Dad can I start it up”?
For some reason he always had this funny look on his face when I asked that, I know now...it was because that was HIS favorite part of the day, and he secretly struggled with letting me do that, after all he was inside ….as much of a kid as I was, he did not want to share that first 5 seconds with me, but often he would just let me do it,…… maybe just maybe?  The smile on my face as, we heard that old “MILL”….. The sound that old mechanical made when starting up
GRUMGRUUUMGRGR GRUMBmmmmm,
"Had made him feel happier than if he had done it himself”.
As the stacks to that beautiful 1966 conventional Pete! Poured out all that billowy! White smoke the smell of diesel and oil and exhaust was overwhelming at times and I could remember not wanting to go outside even though my eyes were burning, it was the whole experience and I was not going to miss one minute of it.
As we jumped in the truck I can remember the only thing that mattered to me was that I was with dad and in that truck, what I had experienced from 5 am until just after 8am was real life, It was the true definition of trucking, it gave men a sense of purpose and felt like we were not only serving the community with a viable and valuable part of society, But that;
Truckers truly were the knights of the concrete jungle, they operated daily with common decency, they paid their own way---there was no such thing as cash advance cards from trucking companies, and we never heard the, attitude
“Not my truck, not my bills, not my problem”.
10:30 pm, we arrived home we would have the meal that mom had made us. Sitting on the counter were two plates with tin foil, mom would hear us and get up, to heat it, and sit with her Men!  What did this represent? FAMILY values imagine that! Dad would be at the table and pull off his belt, laid it down, and I would just stare at it, “Motorways” had a safety award program that included small belt mounted medallion’s he had 12 or 13.
This signified what? Longevity, camaraderie, contentment, and overall peace and satisfaction of a job well done, and Commitment! Can’t forget that one, a three syllable word, with huge impact on the growth of an individual me.
The next Morning I got up and went to the bathroom only to see dads towel in the clothes hamper, what did this signify? That as long as dad was home his towel was on the hook drying, I would just close the door and I knew it would be sometime before I could smell that stack! Smoke again!
“So long dad----I would say to myself”--
I would raise my thumb in the air often when we were together-- we would do that to each other as a universal sign that we were men, who bonded and shared an experience together. Which did what? Built Character! I did that even up until the day dad passed, our thumbs up meant that all was golden brother!
This is why as you view my family photo’s you will see a certain little boy who Is saluting my Father--- his Grandpa whom;
David Carlson! Never had the privilege of meeting, which is too bad because “Dave Carlson” could have taught him so much, of course it was up to me to pass those very same values onto him. I was the only boy left in the Carlson Family that was able to carry on the name.
By the looks of this little boy
"I think we did alright!
For “Old school Truck Driver’s” and in Memory of my Father who taught me that     
“Life does have value....and people are priceless"!
Thumbs up Grandpa!