SALON

Tuesday, Nov 8, 2011 11:30 PM UTC

The female trucker you never saw coming

I used to schmooze clients and drive a fancy car. But when I lost my sales job -- I embraced my true calling

By

Topics: My Brilliant Second Career, Life stories,

The female trucker you never saw coming (Credit: Image courtesy of the author)
This is the second in a series about people who stared down the Great Recession -- and reinvented themselves along the way. Do you have a great Plan B success story? Post it on Open Salon, tag it "My Brilliant Second Career," and we might publish it on Salon -- and pay you for it. A version of this story first appeared on Tiffany Brubeck's Open Salon blog.

It’s four o’clock in the morning. I’m slumped in a corner booth at Klein’s truck stop. It’s been a heck of a night, but I have a wad of cash in my purse and the coffee’s hot. Joint’s empty, with the exception of a couple old-timers chatting up the counter waitress. All three sneak glances in my direction, uncertain what to make of me. “Too pretty for a lot lizard,” one says, shoveling spoonfuls of gravy into his leathered face. “Why in tarnation a young gal would be out here alone at this hour,” mumbles his buddy between bites of toast. Their gossip is muffled by a deep rumble that rattles the windows. In the darkness, illuminated by hundreds of tiny diesel lights strung along the side of cabs like it’s Christmas — another long, shadowy 18-wheeler slides out onto the interstate.

I’ve been coming to places like this for long as I can remember. When I was a six-year-old kid growing up in the Ozark mountains, only one thing was more wonderful than Grandpa, and her name was “Betsy,” his ’79 Kenworth K100. Climbing up into Betsy’s cab the grownup world outside seemed to shrink. I became the Invincible Girl. I’d maneuver the wheel of the motionless truck, imagining the steel beast under my command. I wish I’d held tighter to that six year old — cultivated her priceless imagination and guarded her innocence with ferocity. But something shifted. Maybe it was jerky school kids who snickered when I boasted Gramps was a trucker, or nasty ankle biters who argued I should be playing with Barbie, not Hot Wheels. Perhaps it was Cliff Huxtable and Jason Seaver, TV dads of the 80s, who arrived home every night before dinner in cable-knit sweaters and never made mommies cry. Whatever it was, by the time I turned eight, I’d determined life as a long-hauler wasn’t something to brag about.

After graduating, I moved out west to work in sales. I mingled on the scenes, networking, and schmoozing clients. I chowed down at swanky restaurants, charged designer clothes, and even leased a fancy convertible. I walked and talked with left-coast confidence, but inside I felt phony. This is California, I assured myself. Everybody assimilates. I soaked up la-la-land like a soppy biscuit. I had no idea what a bellyache it would give me.

One morning in November 2008, the fantasy stopped. I’d fallen behind on my quota for signing up customers to open lines of credit. And when the axe started swinging, I was the first to go. I went home and cried hysterically, partly because I was stuck in debt quicksand with no tree branch in sight, but also because in my gut, I’d known the danger all along. I’d seen the quicksand — and told myself it was a hot tub. I certainly couldn’t ask my folks for help. My grandparents toiled for every dime they ever earned; they wanted a better life for me — which did not include my sacrificing health insurance so I could afford bigger car payments. After years of dismissing their penny-pinching values as old-fashioned and hokey, I was too humiliated to confess that living high on the hog had eaten me alive.

For the next few months, I wore my pajamas all day long. The streets were tomb quiet while the rest of the world went to work. The mid-afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows was bright enough to cause headaches. And on TV, every commercial peddled the snake oil that will catapult you off your couch and back to success. During that slump of unemployment, I entertained the idea of becoming everything from a court reporter to pastry chef, all while devising a no-fail formula for winning both showcases on “The Price Is Right.” But after I waded through all the “GET RICH! CHANGE YOUR LIFE! DIAL NOW!” boob-tube malarkey, I realized sometimes the right path out is to turn your heels and head back the way you came. So I sucked in a deep breath, picked up the phone  – and made a call about becoming a long-haul trucker.

It didn’t make sense that trucking was something I should want. That image of a trucker was so different from me — the flannel clothes and John Deere caps, the greasy fast food gobbled while driving, the conservative, red-state values — all of that stood in stark contrast to the adult I had become. But then I realized what almost destroyed me was buying into stereotypes — trying to play a role I thought I needed to play, to be the very picture of what the world deems successful. Heck with that! The truth is that the dream of being a hauler had always been with me, like a soft, faded blanket you tuck in the closet until you’re cold. I sailed through my Commercial Driver’s License written exam. I’ve never been my best under pressure — my skin prickles, and I overthink the simplest questions — but sitting in that exam room, I had that magical feeling you get when you something you’ve dreamed about is something you’re finally doing.  

Outside Klein’s Truck Stop, a pale periwinkle sky foretells of the breaking dawn. The old men at the counter have moved on to politics and complaining about the weather. I knock back the last swig of coffee — truck stop gold, we call it — and stand to stretch my creaky bones. On my way out, I breeze past the counter, making sure I’m close enough for the menfolk to get a whiff of my perfume.

The chilled morning air feels fresh as I stroll across the parking lot. A disheveled woman approaches to ask if I can spare any change. She’s made some bad choices, she says, but she’s trying to find her way back home. I tell her I can relate, place 10 bucks in her palm, and wish her good luck. I check the air pressure in the tires and do a quick pre-trip inspection. I climb into the cab of my semi, and then fire up the engine. I’m on a turnaround to Shaky Town — got a five-hour drive ahead of me, but I should make it to Los Angeles this side of lunchtime.

The old men swagger outside toward their pickups. Rubbing their bloated stomachs, they cast eyes over the packed lot, taking in the next generation: a convoy of the most diverse truckers in American history. When they spot me warming up, they hoot and whistle, elbowing one another in the ribs. Old leather face removes his cap and makes an exaggerated bow before me, the other shoots me a thumbs up. I smile back, giving them a long bellowing honk before I disappear out onto the highway again.

More Tiffany Brubeck.

Next Article

Related Stories

More Related Stories

Featured Slide Shows

The week in 10 pics

close X
  • Share on Twitter
  • Share on Facebook
  • Thumbnails
  • Fullscreen
  • 1 of 11
  • Lisa Montgomery embraces her nephew Thursday after a tornado tore apart her home in Cleburne, Texas. The twister killed six people and destroyed entire swaths of the North Texas town.
    Credit: AP/LM Otero

  • Jack McMahon, the defense attorney for abortion doctor Kermit Gosnell, speaks outside the Criminal Justice Center Philadelphia Tuesday. His client was convicted of killing three babies in his clinic, and will serve multiple life sentences.
    Credit: AP/Matt Rourke

  • A photo taken Monday captures Vice President Joe Biden's response to a Milwaukee second-grader's innovative proposal to end America's epidemic of gun violence. This guy!
    Credit: AP/Jenny Aicher

  • Sen. Rand Paul, R-Ky., flanked by a grouper-eyed Michele Bachmann, addresses the IRS' admission that it targeted Tea Party groups in advance of the 2012 election. In an op-ed for CNN Thursday, the Kentucky senator slammed the president for his faux outrage.
    Credit: AP/Molly Riley

  • Ousted IRS chief Steven Miller is sworn in on Capitol Hill Friday. Miller testified before the House Ways and Means Committee on the extra scrutiny the agency gave conservative groups applying for tax-exempt status.
    Credit: AP/J. Scott Applewhite

  • Attorney General Eric Holder pauses as he testifies on Capitol Hill before the House Judiciary Committee Wednesday. Holder is under fire, among other things, for the Justice Department's gathering of phone records at the Associated Press.
    Credit: AP/Carolyn Kaster

  • O.J. Simpson sits during an evidentiary hearing at Clark County District Court in Las Vegas, Nev., Thursday. Simpson, who is currently serving a nine-to-33-year sentence in state prison for armed robbery and kidnapping, is using a writ of habeas corpus to seek a new trial.
    Credit: AP/Las Vegas Review-Journal/Jeff Scheid

  • Major Tom to ground control: On Sunday astronaut Chris Hadfield recorded the first music video from space, a cover of David Bowie's "Space Oddity."
    Credit: AP/NASA/Chris Hadfield

  • When it rains it pours. President Barack Obama speaks during a news conference Thursday with Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan, inexplicably inspiring an #umbrellagate Twitter meme.
    Credit: AP/Jacquelyn Martin

  • A smoke plume rises high above a road block at the intersection of County A and Ross Road east of Solon Springs, Wis., Tuesday. No injuries were reported, but the the wildfire caused evacuations across northwestern Wisconsin.
    Credit: AP/The Duluth News-Tribune/Clint Austin

  • Recent Slide Shows

  • Share on Twitter
  • Share on Facebook
  • Thumbnails
  • Fullscreen
  • 1 of 11

Related Videos

Comments

 28 Comments

Comment Preview

Your name will appear as username

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href=""> <b> <em> <strong> <i> <blockquote>

follow salon

Most Read

Popular on Reddit

links from salon.com

From Around the Web

Presented by Scribol
listener_new_rect The Listener: So long, Sookie Stackhouse

Recommendations