For the Sake of the Sound...

I have had a wonderful summer off - spending time with my lovely "better half" and going fishing & canoeing - but it has now gotten to the point where I must once again return to work and get a little money coming in to pay the bills. It has also gotten to the point where I'm beginning to realize that I miss driving a truck.

The following poem was written by way of explanation to my (ex) wife as to why my chosen profession is more a way of life, than just a way to make a living.

In many ways, I dread going back on the road; The lonely nights far away from loved ones, waking up in a different town or city each day, viewing the world through a windshield, the long hours of driving through all types of weather, etc... But in many ways, these very things are the ones that I feel calling to me in a way that I've never quite been able to express except with the following lines. I hope you enjoy!




For the Sake of the Sound


I’ve left a lot of miles, and a lot of mem’ries
Behind me on the road…
I’ve been up and down and back and forth
In search of the perfect load.

‘Seen some sights that would flat out blind
Most ordinary men.
‘ Seen places I’d like to get back to –
And some I’d rather never even been!

There’s happiness out here. (If you know where to look.)
And sadness. (Sometimes too easily found.)
I’ve seen friendships develop… And marriages fail –
All for the sake of the sound.

The sound? Well, it’s the roar of the engine, the mesh of the gears,
The crackle of a radio call…
It’s the hum of the tires and the deep, easy snore
After a day of givin’ your all.

It’s the tinkle of a spoon in a coffee cup,
The rattle of iced tea in a glass.
It’s the whine of the tranny and the way the jake bellows
As you ease down some steep mountain pass…

It’s the WHUMP! of a tire throwin’ its cap,
(The muttered curse, under your breath.)
It’s the blare of your horn at some Dipstick Fourwheeler
Who just scared you Damn near to death!

It’s the howl of the wind, and the laugh of a waitress –
Somewhere a long way from home…
It’s the easy banter in a truckstop café,
That makes you feel not quite so alone.

It’s rain on the roof of the sleeper,
The whisper of snow coming down –
It’s all of the things you don’t realize you’re hearing
That makes up the most of the sound!

It is… The Honest to God heartbeat of America;
The pulse of traffic thru’ her veins!
And once it gets in your blood, and believe me it will -
You’ll never again be the same

Without the muted rumble of a truck stop in winter,
A corny joke, heard on the C. B. –
Late night talk radio, a million sounds more!
All beckoning to you – And to me…

Now, you can drive this land from coast to coast,
And see everything there is to be found…
And you can give up the road for the sake of your soul –
But you’ll come back… …For the sake of the sound!


Don McCrary
© August, 1994