Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Trucker/artist/storyteller

I was up on the floor working one day. The doctor was up making his rounds. He had to do a procedure in one of his patients rooms and asked if her husband could just step out. Her room was right across from my desk. At first I was kinda irritated that her husband would now be lingering around my desk and it got a whole lot worse once he started trying to make small talk. I hate small talk, but at the same time appreciate it for what it is. Once that lead to me finding out that he was a trucker I was interested. He was probably about 70 years old, and had a lot of experiences on the road. I've always been curious about truck drivers. I've wondered why there are weigh stations, what trucker lingo means, and how much they make. When I was in high school I drove a 1990 Ford Bronco. In it was a CB radio and my friends and I had so much fun listening to the truckers talk in their own language. One time the antenna on top fell off onto the front windshield while Christy and I were driving down the interstate and we had to swerve off. Back to the story. At that time my boyfriend's father was a truck driver. On the way to the lake he would try to teach us the lingo. So when I found out about this man being a truck driver I wanted to hear more. He started telling me all kinds of stories from on the road. He said that one time he picked up a hitch hiker who was acting very paranoid. The guy was tapping his feet, looking back through the mirrors, and kept asking where they were or if anyone was following them. He told the hitch hiker to just get out because he couldn't handle it anymore. Later down the road he was listening to the news and heard an announcement stating the exact description of the man and that he had escaped from the psych. ward. He didn't call to report him though. He said he likes to stay out of those things. Eventually he got around to the fact that he likes pottery. He said that he makes all kinds of pots. He said he would bring me one when he came back up there the next day. So, here it is. It's very special to me. The pics are kinda blurry. My little camera doesn't do so well on close-ups.

4 comments:

C.S. Perry said...

Some of the best stories we pick up in this life come from total strangers. You have to be cautious about who let bend your ear but it’s clear from this bit that you have a keen eye for it.
Always look twice and listen hard to be sure you didn’t miss anything and you just might find that the whole, weird world is waiting to show you something you didn’t expect.
The Truth is where you find it.

Anonymous said...

Hi Meg. Thanks for stopping by my blog. I enjoyed reading your opening post. I had a friend in college who was adopted. She never found her birth mother but the search for her brought her some peace.

I plan to read along. I'm sure you'll have some exciting stuff! And welcome to the world of blogging!

Victoria said...

I love the pot he made! I love talking with older people...they have such great stories of a different time.

Unknown said...

10-4 over and out