A Trucker's Last Letter
Steamboat Mountain is a man-killer, and truckers
who haul the Alaska Highway
treat it with respect. Particularly in the winter, the road curves
and twists
over the mountain and sheer cliffs drop away sharply from the icy
road.
Countless trucks and truckers have been lost there and many more
will follow
their last tracks.
On one trip up the highway, I came upon the Royal Canadian
Mounted
Police and several wreckers winching the remains of a semi up the
steep cliff.
I parked my rig and went over to the quiet group of truckers who
were
watching the wreckage slowly come into sight.
One of the Mounties walked over to us and spoke quietly.
"I'm sorry," he said, the driver was dead when we found him.
He must have
gone over the side two days ago when we had a bad snowstorm. There
weren't many tracks. It was just a fluke that we noticed the sun
shining off
some chrome."
He shook his head slowly and reached into his parka pocket.
"Here, maybe you guys should read this. I guess he lived for
a couple
of hours until the cold got to him."
I'd never seen tears in a cop's eyes before--I always figured
they'd
seen so much death and despair they were immune to it, but he wiped
tears away as he handed me the letter. As I read it, I began to
weep. Each
driver silently read the words, then quietly walked back to his
rig. The words
were burned into my memory and now, years later, that letter is
still as vivid
as if I were holding it before me. I want to share that letter with
you and your
families.
December, 1974
My Darling Wife,
This is a letter that
no man ever wants to write, but I'm lucky enough
to have some time to say what I've forgotten
to say so many times. I love
you, sweetheart.
You used to kid me
that I loved the truck more than you because I spent
more time with her. I do love this piece of
iron--she's been good to me.
She's seen me through tough times and tough
places. I could always count on
her in a long haul and she was speedy in the
stretches. She never let me down.
But you want to know something?
I love you for the same reasons. You've
seen me through the tough times and places,
too.
Remember the first truck?
That run down "ol' cornbinder" that kept us broke
all the time but always made just enough money
to keep us eating? You
went out and got a job so that we could pay
the rent and the bills. Every
cent I made went into the truck while your
money kept us in food with a roof
over our heads.
I remember that I complained
about the truck, but I don't remember you ever
complaining when you came home tired from
work and I asked you for money
to go on the road again. If you did complain,
I guess I didn't hear you. I was
too wrapped up with my problems to think of
yours.
I think now of all the things
you gave up for me. The clothes, the holidays,
the parties, the friends. You never complained
and somehow I never remembered
to thank you for being you.
When I sat having coffee
with the boys, I always talked about my truck,
my rig, my payments. I guess I forgot you
were my partner even if you
weren't in the cab with me. It was your sacrifices
and determination as much as
mine that finally got the new truck.
I was so proud of that truck
I was bursting. I was proud of you, too,
but I never told you that. I took it for granted
you knew, but if I had spent as
much time talking with you as I did polishing
chrome, perhaps I would have.
In all the years I've pounded
the pavement, I always knew your prayers
rode with me. But this time they weren't enough.
I'm hurt and it's bad. I've made
my last mile and I want to say the things
that should have been said so many times before.
The things that were
forgotten because I was too concerned about
the truck and the job.
I'm thinking about the missed
anniversaries and birthdays. The school plays
and hockey games that you went to alone because
I was on the road.
I'm thinking about the lonely
nights you spent alone, wondering where I
was and how things were going. I'm thinking
of all the times I thought of
calling you just to say hello and somehow
didn't get around to. I'm thinking of
the peace of mind I had knowing that you were
at home with the kids, waiting
for me.
The family dinners where
you spent all your time telling your folks why
I couldn't make it. I was busy changing oil;
I was busy looking for parts;
I was sleeping because I was leaving early
the next morning. There was
always a reason, but somehow they don't seem
very important to me right now.
When we were married, you didn't know
how to change a light bulb. Within a
couple of years, you were fixing the furnace
during a blizzard while I
was waiting for a load in Florida. You became
a pretty good mechanic,
helping me with repairs, and I was mighty
proud of you when you jumped into
the cab and backed up over the rose bushes.
I was proud of you when
I pulled into the yard and saw you sleeping in
the car waiting for me. Whether it was two
in the morning or two in the
afternoon you always looked like a movie star
to me. You're beautiful, you
know. I guess I haven't told you
that lately, but you are.
I made lots of mistakes
in my life, but if I only ever made one good
decision, it was when I asked you to marry
me. You never could understand
what it was that kept me trucking. I couldn't
either, but it was my way of
life and you stuck with me. Good times, bad
times, you were always there. I
love you, sweetheart, and I love the kids.
My body hurts but my heart hurts even
more. You won't be there when I
end this trip. For the first time since we've
been together, I'm really
alone and it scares me. I need you so badly,
and I know it's too late.
It's funny I guess, but
what I have now is the truck. This truck that
ruled our lives for so long. This twisted
hunk of steel that I lived in and
with for so many years. But it can't return
my love. Only you can do that.
You're a thousand
miles away but I feel you here with me. I can see your
face and feel your love and I'm scared to
make the final run alone.
Tell the kids that I love them
very much and don't let the boys drive any
truck for a living.
I guess that's about it,
honey. Dear God, but I love you very much. Take care
of yourself and always remember that I loved
you more than anything in life.
I just forgot to tell you.
I love you,
Bill
So many times, we forget the important things of life and go on our
busy
way. Then when it is too late, we remember!
The most important thing
that we should not forget is to include Jesus in every aspect of
our lives.
Remember to tell all that we love, that we care, and that includes
telling
our Lord also.......
Trucking is a very important aspect of each of our lives, even if
we dont realize
it or not.... so say a prayer for those truckers out there
on the roads, and give
them a big wave and smile when ya see them....
