Breaker Breaker 1-9

Yesterday I was driving in my car and I heard a song on the radio "Convoy". The song is a little dated and so is the movie but both remind me so much of my dad. Dad is a big truck driver. Most people call them semi's or 18-wheelers but I call them big trucks. Always have, always will. So the song is playing and I am singing along "we gotta great big convoy rocking thru the night, yeah we gotta little ol' convoy ain't she a beautiful site - CONVOY". If I'd had a CB in my car I would have gotten on it - "Breaker Breaker 1-9 this hear is the Little Kidd - anyone got your ears on? Come on back". I say Little Kidd because my dad's handle is The Kidd and my mom was actually Lady Kidd. Pretty cool, huh? My dad has drove truck all his life. Its the only job he has ever had - learned it, lives it, loves it. He has driven to and around all lower 48 states. My mom and I went to California with him when I was small in a red and black Kentworth (KW) with a picture of Farrah Fawcett airbrushed on the back. Dad has lots of trucking buddies and some were around the house every now and then - "Chicken Plucker", "Baby Doll", "Windy", "The Lone Ranger", "Strawberry Roan", "Keystone", "Go Yonder". The truck drivers of today are not the ones I remember growing up around. Shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops, pony-tails and earrings are seen today. Not so when I was around my dad and his generation. It was boots, Wrangler jeans, button downs, trucker hats, the occasional cowboy hat and women truck drivers were almost non-existent. They all waived at each other, let everyone know if there were police (smokies, bears or the county mounty) ahead or behind them, flashed their headlights when it was okay to pass into the other lane. I still do the arm pump to get a big rig to blow its horn. What can I say? Somethings you never outgrow.