Wire You Doing This?

Over the Rode

My wife, Cindy, and I are over-the-road truck drivers. We drive team. Team driving means that one of us is always driving and one of us is always sleeping. Over the last thirty years of criss-crossing the United States and Canada, we have accumulated a huge number of "remember when" moments. As in, "remember when we went hiking on Snoqualmie for the first time?" Or, "remember when it took five hours to cross the George Washington Bridge because of construction?" Or, "remember when the blizzard closed I-80 in Wyoming on Christmas?"

As we drive now, every mile of interstate brings up memories from the hundreds of other times we have been there. We often feel sorry for the people who vacation around the United States and Canada who fly from city to city. They don't get to experience the country mile by mile like we get to.

Airplane vacationers don't know that the Texas bluebonnets start blooming in the south, then work their way north as spring moves north. They don't get to compare this year's crop of corn in Nebraska to the crop in Iowa. They don't get to watch the college football fans convoy from state to state each fall, nor the snowbirds turn their RVs toward northern homes each spring. They don't get to fall in love with an entire country, as they get to know her quirks, her beauty, her foibles, and her history. At least they don't learn her like those of us privileged to experience her food and cultures up close. Mile by mile.

This has been a poignant week for us. You see, this is our last week of trucking. The "remember whens" we are creating are along the lines of "this could be our last Arizona sunset" or, "this could be the last time we get to pull the air-horn for a kid pumping his arm."

Why leave a job that we still enjoy every day? Because you can't steal second base unless you are willing to take your foot off of first base. At a time when friends our age are settling in and getting comfortable, we decided on another adventure. You see, we have also loved to travel internationally. With seven continents and almost fifty nations under our belt, we realized that we are like the airplane vacationers we have pitied for the things that they missed. We fly into a spot, look around, and fly back. Our "remember whens" are mostly at tourist spots, not in the little nooks and crannies that give a place character. We have decided to see the world mile by mile, much as we have seen America mile by mile.

We sold our house in Colorado, bought a fifty-foot sailboat in South Carolina, and put in our notice at our company of sixteen years. Our Sparkman-Stevens 50 is a boat made for crossing oceans. She is waiting in Hilton Head for us to finish this last week, and begin the next chapter of our lives.

We named her Miles.