I could never be a truck driver

When it comes to careers, I’m pretty openminded. I have to be since I find myself shouting I don’t know what I’m doing with my life! from the rooftops at least once a day. I’ve considered many a job (considered being the operative word here, and not applied for as my mother would much prefer), and although I know I’m not headed into a chemistry lab anytime soon, the world is basically my oyster, and I’m free to reach for the stars as I take the path less traveled, yada yada. Even “trash collector” sounds cool because I’d get to stand on the outside of the truck and hold onto the handle while it’s moving. My problem isn’t finding a job that interests me, it’s finding just one and settling on it.


However, one job I could never, ever take is that of a truck driver. Or a taxi driver. Or a chauffeur. Catch my drift? I hate being in the car for long periods of time. (Long as in > 20 minutes.) Being the driver in such a scenario is exponentially better than riding, but god help me and my fellow passengers if I’m on a road trip. Which I have been in the past. Somehow, miraculously I didn’t kill the other people in the car (I was probably close) or myself (closer).

dog stuck car

Last week I helped with another round of kindergarten testing and I drove 200+ miles to Chesapeake, 230+ to Harrisonburg, and a final 120 miles back home in just five days. Too much! I say. Too much. I love music, I do, but after upwards of 8-10 hours in the car, even the world’s catchiest song just won’t do it for me anymore.

I can’t read or write or really even look at anything inside the car if it so much as acts like it’s going to move, so music (or the incessant, inane chatter of a happy rider) is all I’ve got when I travel. Planes, trains, automobiles, they’re all the same. If it weren’t for all the freaking awesome things to see in the world, I’d hole up right here in my bed forever. (Oh, wait, story of my life already.) In the end, besides the aforementioned obvious, becoming a truck driver wouldn’t work out anyway because I clearly need to make enough money so I can buy first class tickets all the time and travel in luxury. Or maybe I’ll just marry rich.


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