Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Thoughts on 3,000 Miles

I started writing a book today. I've had the idea for some time of writing a book about a truck driver (called 3,000 Miles). Not the most inspiring of subjects, I know. But as much as I have hated it at times, my life of driving for the past 7 and 1/2 years has been interesting. Not in the romantic way that comes to people's minds, of roaming the highways and getting to see the country. Well, there's that. But mostly I'm thinking of things that don't get talked about. The loneliness. Driving 500 miles when you're miserable because you haven't had a shower in two days and you're not going to have time to stop for one until well into a third day. Working an entire week subsisting on a few hours of sleep at a time. Sleep that you've snuck in while you're being unloaded, or between the time you deliver and when you pick up your next load. Or finding ways to keep yourself awake, such as buying a big bag of peanuts in the shell and eating only one per mile to keep yourself focused on the road. Or backing your truck into a space that's not big enough for a truck half the size of yours, and doing it quickly, precisely and with zero fanfare (the latter because no one else comprehends the miracle you've just performed).

My point in mentioning this is that there are all sorts of minor dramatic moments in the daily life of a truck driver that could, if handled correctly, make for a decent narrative. But I've also been painfully aware that if you remove the cliche'd stories of a driver trying to make that one good, last run, or remove the charicature of the tobacco chewing redneck in a cowboy hat, or resist Hollywood's favorite depiction at the moment (that of the disgruntled driver with low self-esteem who terrorizes a yuppie family or a car full of college kids for cutting him off on the highway), there's not an awful lot that the general public will find interesting. They only expect to see truck drivers as the uneducated, in-bred redneck that is the target for humor and derision, the predator in a 40 ton death machine, or both (in which the former becomes the latter). So how do you reject all these easy story vehicles and still make it interesting? You can't make it too realistic. Who would read it?

12:32pm Sitting in a dock in Richmond, flipping through a magazine while I wait to be unloaded.

2:43pm. Still sitting in a dock in Richmond, flipping through a different magazine and waiting to be unloaded.

4:12pm. Unloaded. Heading south to the terminal to shower. Might swing by the truckstop to pick up more magazines or a book. Why do they think truck drivers only read Louis L'Amour and Mack Bolan novels?


So. How do you tell it? My recent brush with reality television made me wonder if that might work as a vehicle. Sure. We'd have a camera crew follow our guy around, chronicling his life as a truck driver. That would give you a chance to talk about the reality of truck driving vs. the pre-conceptions of the camera crew and production company.

In the end, though, I have the same problem with this idea that I have with all my other stories and ideas. When would I find the time to write it? After running hard all week, I just don't have the energy or inclination to block out a story. Much less leap into the actual writing.

Well, today I finally got it. I finally understand. Maybe the best way to tell this story is just to tell my story. As much as I am loathe to admit it, I am a truck driver. I have a lot of plans and a lot of things that I hope will play out. If they do, it could make make for an interesting narrative. Hell, it might keep me working hard at it, just to have something to write about.

Some of this comes from my growing disenchantment with blogging (which has largely turned into a mechanical recitation of recent events). I want this to be something else. More diary than journal. More writing than blog.

I've decided to write letters to my father. I may never have the chance to hear his story (he's dead, after all) and get to know him. But maybe through this I can feel like I'm telling him a few things about who I am. Who cares, really, if other people are reading over his shoulder?

Maybe in this way I can tell the (hopefully interesting) story of a reluctant truck driver who desperately wishes he could be something (anything!) else.

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