Truck Driver

When my wife and I married and blended, or truly smashed, our two families that consisted of five children, two dogs, two cats, a bunny and a gecko, we needed the largest moving truck ever manufactured. The task involved moving her out of a house in Hilliard and me out of a condo in Gahanna. Just as a funny note, we were going from two homes totaling close to 3000 square feet to a town home in German Village that was 1300 square feet plus an unfinished attic that would serve as the master bedroom. I often joked, “We moved out of the closet and into the attic.” We needed a place centrally located, and let’s face it, when describing our family situation, most landlords said, “I don’t think so.” A little home is better than no home hence the smashing.


When I arrived at the moving van rental establishment known for old, dilapidated trucks with Grandma’s Attic, I took one look at the “4 bedroom” size we had signed up for and thought to myself “I don’t know if I can drive that…” It was ginormous. I had struggled to climb into the thing! What’s more, the bench seat was so heavy, I really couldn’t move it up. I felt so anxious. My heart was pounding against my chest, and I was consumed with self-doubt. I had been socialized as we all are to believe that driving trucks is “man’s business.” Who did I think I was?
Then I began to roar quietly, slowly, tentatively. I told myself that there was no man to do this for me, so I had better figure it out. I reminded myself that all I really needed was a foot for the pedals, arms and hands for the steering wheel and a driver’s license. I had all of those requirements. I said to myself, “This does not require a penis.” I put it in gear, and started out. I quickly realized that the truck was so old and slow that I had no option but to take it easy. The mammoth, gas-guzzler shimmied and swayed through Gahanna, Hilliard and Columbus. The move was a success, but I was never so happy to get behind the wheel of my VW Jetta upon returning The Monster.


Little did I know then, that my wife and I would quickly realize we needed more space, and please God, more than one bathroom for our large family. Eight months later we rented another truck to move our belongings into storage while waiting to close on our house. Then a few weeks later another truck to move it all into our new home. We learned to rent from the company with the newer, clean yellow trucks that were equally huge but easier to drive. At the risk of bragging, I was parallel parking those trucks by the time we were done moving. I didn’t fear driving them. I enjoyed it! I loved the sound the air brakes made. I told my wife that I would consider driving a truck for a living if my teaching gig ever got old.


Women are often taught that certain options or activities are not for us -- that we can’t do them. Whenever we are faced with those circumstances, let’s roar a little bit and ask ourselves “What is really needed to do this?” I bet we will find that we always have what it takes. Hear Jane Roar!