I’ve hauled bark for Timberland to make charcoal briquettes
Getting paid 8 cents a mile, I took all I could get.
Brockway diesels, Screaming Jimmies, Mack B63’s
Concrete batch truck, Andrews Air Base, Washington DC
I drove to put myself through school, just trying to change my luck
Off the farm, then just discharged I drove those damned old trucks.
I’ve hauled clinker, ice, and milk, and charcoal by the ton
Double clutching, jamming gears making midnight runs.
Quarts of Pepsi with no food kept me tightly wired
Sleep-deprived hallucinations, always over-tired
Triplex, Duplex, straight 5-speeds with vacuum shift rear ends
5-speed mains -auxiliary 3’s, combos without end
I always got them figured out sometimes while on the road
And I always drove those damned old trucks, as fast as they would go
I’ve left smoking strips of rubber and watched those big duals burn
When I locked them up to miss a car as they made a no-left turn
I’ve endured the deadly boredom then the special thrill
When I blew the air brake diaphragms at the top of a steep hill
I’ve passed semis 3 abreast on narrow 2 lane roads
Trying to keep momentum up with twenty-five-ton loads
I’ve seen my trailer in my mirrors skid and come around
And damn near jack knife tires sliding on the icy ground
I’ve rolled backward down a hill in a state of abject terror
When I missed a shift and stalled it out and my trailer brakes lost air
I got it started, revved it up, and jammed it into low
The tractor reared high in the air when I popped the clutch to go
So when I’m on the interstate and see a big rig roll
I want to be there in that seat but I guess now I’m too old
I know I’ll probably never get to go back to those times
But sometimes just before I sleep I hear a diesel whine
And I feel the deep vibrations of a big rig in my bones
And I drive a midnight highway, fast and young and wild, alone.
And I feel the deep vibrations of a big rig in my bones
And I drive a midnight highway, fast and young and wild, alone.