The Golden Age of Trucking

Well, what will they think of next? You know how, when you’re out on the road, you see a whole bunch of places that you want to get back to someday? You can’t stop right then because you’re on a deadline, or there’s weather coming in, or whatever, but you write it down on your list that you keep and get back to it eventually.

I’ve just seen something that’s going to be one of my favorite places! It’s “The Golden Age of Trucking Museum,” up in Middlebury, Connecticut. Big green and white highway signs in the halls to direct you – Miles really perked up when he saw those. Now he’s gonna want some in the house, I can tell. (I should put up one that says ‘Turn Here for Sweatsocks Heaven’ but I won’t.) Oh, they’ve got some gorgeous old trucks there – a 1922 Mack AC, and a 1929 Diamond T 550 – how about that 1955 International RF-405, West Coaster – what a beauty – and I liked the 1917 Republic Model 10 too. Bet it was hard to steer, though, like trying to get Miles past the display of swimsuit magazines when they get put on the news stands every year.

Wish I could just live there. Although Miles, darn him, said, “Well, why not? If there’s anyone who oughta be in a museum, that’s you - The Oldest Right Seat Cover in the World!” I threw a dish at his head, but he ducked at just the right minute – he’s had too much practice over the years. It left a dent in the cab support for the windshield but the dish didn’t break.

Hope everybody’s holidays were good. Miles and I were home for December and January – that’s why you haven’t heard from me in quite a while. Florafora – just call her ‘Flora’ - my sister-in-law, came by in her new, small RV, her and her five cats. Guess she’s less of a danger out on the road in one of them things than behind the windshield of a four-wheeler – but I wonder. The good thing about it is that you can see her coming a little further off. And the neighbors don’t stare as much when she drives up in this, not that I minded the neighbors staring. But her vintage 1970 VW bus painted like Peter Max’s nightmares did tend to stand out a bit. Actually, her bus put the old school bus the Muppets drove in one of their movies to shame, now that I think of it. But she got tired of everybody calling her ‘Grandma Hippie’ so she traded it in.

Well, by golly, I’ll be writing to all of you a lot more often now – guess what my ol’ coot went an’ got me for Valentine’s Day – my own laptop, that’s what! I couldn’t believe it. Miles got all red when I tried to kiss him an’ he jumped out of the truck – durn his hide – but wasn’t that really just too sweet of him? He claimed it’s because he got tired of trying to pry my hands off the computer so he could use it.

I never told you about the cab-overs we’ve had during our long career, have I? Talk about bone-jolters! If there was a pothole within fifty feet of one of the tires, any of those cab-overs would hone in on it like a hound after a rabbit. I had my feet up on the old Freightliner’s dashboard once, paintin’ my toenails, an’ Miles never said a word – just hit one of those potholes smack dab in the middle. Now, I’m not sayin’ anything about Freightliners – they’re good trucks, an’ we’ve had a couple. But I sure never want to have a cab-over again. That bottle of polish launched itself towards the ceiling and turned three somersaults before it came down. And during each of those somersaults, of course it spilled out about a gallon of red nail polish each turn. Miles couldn’t stop laughing. I had red nail polish all over my nice new once-white pedal pushers, and my socks and sandals were glued to the floormat with polish.

I pulled a good one on him, though, to pay him back. I waited until he was going into a Scales an’ had to take his permit book in. He climbed out of the truck, an’ after he went inside the little office, I stuck my head out of my window and screamed like I was being murdered. Then I jumped up into the little bitty bunk behind the seat and covered myself up with a quilt.

Three inspectors came running out of the building, and of course all they found was what – to them – looked like a big puddle of bright red blood on the right side of the cab – and no poor, helpless woman in sight! Well, they were gonna call the State Police an’ they grabbed hold of Miles to keep him until the Troopers got there. I finally couldn’t take not laughing anymore an’ flung off the quilt an’ hopped down out of the cab. Their jaws dropped about a foot apiece, an’ they realized there hadn’t been a murder take place in their parking lot. But Miles coulda killed me for real right then and there. And in front of all those witnesses, too. Tsk tsk tsk.

Well, I must take off for now. I’ll make you Knights and Ladies of the Road a promise - that I’ll write more often. I didn’t keep up with my ‘Blogbook’ like I should have last year, an’ I’m gonna do better this year. Keep on listening to the new-fangled satellite radio, an’ everybody stay safe now. Remember Miles and Nadine are somewhere out on the roads with you – so watch your manners an’ honk when you see us!