I didn’t set out to be a writer/photographer/musician, but what’s behind you often points to what’s ahead. Going through the ol’ picture file, I ran across a few photos of then…
My qualifications for the job were the ability to sit for extended periods of time (I was a secretary most of my life), an acute attention to detail (lest you run over folks with the back of your trailer while making wide right turns), a spotless driving record, a sense of adventure, and an affinity for shifting gears. (I learned to drive in my Dad’s ol’ Chevy pickup with a “three on the tree.”)
Somehow The Man Of Few Words’ proposal (marriage and career-wise) tickled my fancy. For nearly ten years, I wrestled with road conditions, inched through traffic jams, secured cargo, tried to be a blessing to other drivers (my forté was praying folks down the road — including myself) and lived in a space smaller than a walk-in closet.
Most of the time I shared it with The Man Of Few Words (he’d drive the day shift; I’d drive nights) and we both lived to tell about it. Other times — many times — I’d head for points unknown in a separate rig. It was confidence-building, thrilling, and scary, but the lure of “around the bend” appealed to my soul and propelled me onward… plus, it gave me plenty of time to think.
Hard work? You betcha. Here’s moi preparing to clean my flatbed.
Then, it was a matter of doing what I had to do.
Now, I’m doing what inspires me.
Ironically, writing (et al) has proved to be as hard or harder than an eleven hour day behind the wheel, but I wouldn’t trade one second of it. I’m where (and who) I am now because of millions of miles and memories then.
Life is cumulative, don’t you think?
Enjoying sitting still,