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Epena501 t1_jcgo9yl wrote

Reply to comment by Rocktonix in Kenworth K100 working for 30 years. by Sloth_rockets

One thing that vividly has been ingrained in my core memory was the feeling of the outdoors heat coming in as we drove down the open road. Also remember the vivid smells of gas, oil, and overall trucking life without a a major care in the world given that I was a kid just rolling around with pops.

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windshakes t1_jch35l4 wrote

I know just what you mean. The smell of an old-school diesel's exhaust is nostalgic for me. I remember hiding out in the sleeper when we went through the scales or somewhere to unload. All the trucker chatter on 18 and seeing my dad scramble to turn the volume down when the talk went inappropriate (about every 37 seconds or so). The smell of the pages in the carbon-copy logbook. Counting down milemarkers. Breaking out the giant road atlas to look at maps. The air ride chairs. All the junk Truckstops sold.

What a time.

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Epena501 t1_jch60o3 wrote

Duuuuuuuude carbon-copy logbooks!!!!! I remember looking at it and my dad complaining about having to keep it up to date manually. Lol

I never understood those lines and always thought he was doing futuristic calculations

Edit: also remember helping him clean out the trailer with a broom and running around the aluminum grooved floor thinking the whole inside was HUGE

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Rocktonix t1_jchb8zw wrote

My dad was a mover so we’d strip down packing boxes after unloading for a move so they could be reused.

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Rocktonix t1_jchaspv wrote

My dad used to let me fill in his logbook, had a tiny red clear plastic ruler to graph out stop and driving times

Watching for quick peaks of the Statue of Liberty between high rises. Still the only time I’ve seen it beyond from a plane window.

Driving to the beach for a few hours in a rig when he had loads in FL

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Epena501 t1_jcicn9i wrote

When he would lift the cab to work the engine under it. It was a real life freaking transformer in my kid brain.

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Rocktonix t1_jcigrds wrote

I’m glad you commented. It’s been a nostalgia trip all day

I played at Disney world the summer after I finished college. My dad searched for loads to Florida so he could come watch. Was getting ready for work and a fellow performer told me there was a rig idling all night next to their cabin. Walked over and saw my dad, full 18 wheels parked in our tiny cabin community

He drove the whole thing through the park gates the next morning to watch me perform. The image of him standing in liberty square, full denim and flannel in an Orlando August afternoon with a disposable Kodak camera my mom sent with him will forever be burned in my mind.

He’s gone 8 years this past November and was the hardest working person I’ve known.

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