The old truck hadn't been used in a while,
But it should be good for a few more miles.
Under the hood, the engine was rusty,
And the interior smelled faintly musty.
Assuming it would start--we all wanted to know...
When we put it in gear, would it actually go?
Someone called,"All the tires are flat".
But a little new air would take care of that.
Better get some fuel, since the gauge is on "E".
Wash the windshield, so the driver can see.
No problem to let it coast downhill to the mechanic's shop;
Next question:Are the brakes good enough to make it stop?
The truck was so bad, it had no heater fan.
But the Master Mechanic had a Master plan!
He took it to His shop for the needed repairs.
'Twas quite a long time that He kept it there.
He tinkered, and cut, and removed lots of stuff
Solving problems we had thought were real tough.
He put in new hoses, gaskets, and such.
What a joy to watch His skillful touch,
As He cut away the old to make room for the new.
Finally the day arrived when he was all through.
A great crowd gathered around the shop door,
To behold the new creation, there on the floor!
It was washed up, and pumped up,and all the fluids were filled.
Even the body He had been forced to rebuild.
Fresh paint;new tires;and the engine a'humming.
It was ready to face the world oncoming!
When flaws seem difficult to be fixed by man.
Stand back, and watch the touch of the Master's Hand.
Across the road from new truck sales
Lay a yard filld with trucks that died
These vehicles' voice offer tales
Once on them a trucker relied
They thought that he would be companion
Their eternal guide protect them
He took one to the Grand Canyon
He was truck's total brain stem
Made the decisions for each day
This truck didn't object just follow
Whichever way trucker would stray
Even if where lay Capistrano Swallow
Then one day the truck's tires went flat
Soon in this graveyard this truck lies
Trucker lost his favorite hat
Old trucker no longer truck guides
He drives along the countryside ,
speeding the hearts of all the woman.
Delivering his sumptuous smile ,
the enigma of his personality.
Deep blue eyes are purest in the world ,
A white man's love to die for !
I have bathed in oriental monsoon,
tasted the Indian wine
, but nothing as compared to his passion.
The gear of my heart is in his hands ,
My blood runs through the engine ,
He drives me to his heart's harbour,
For he is my sexy TRUCK DRIVER.
Now I know I aint got much
Not a Bible to believe In
Now my only cars a truck
That I also use to sleep in
Cause' this truck is all I got
My backyard is a parking lot
The wild truck
On a war
But still on a road
Who is on the wheel?
Where is head?
Where is hope?
Around the Truck With a Roar
By Elton Camp
Bob was driving home one day
But a big truck got into his way
“He’ll pull over or stop soon,”
Bob, at first, did hopefully croon
This road had many a blind curve
Only an idiot around it would swerve
Finally, Bob gave away to irritation
And blew his horn in frustration
The truck went slowly down the road
For, in fact, he had a very heavy load
Bob had no special deadline to meet
Still he squirmed angrily in his seat
“When that approaching car gets by,
To pass that truck I’m going to try.”
He shoved the accelerator to the floor
His powerful engine began to roar
Around the curve a Hummer came
For the wreck, Bob was to blame
Around the curve, lickety-split
Bob’s car was beautiful, wasn’t it?
The doctor said, “There’s naught I can do”
Bob died that day, proving his words true
From this sad tale, a valuable lesson learn
Foolish changes, an early demise may earn
I have been privileged,
To hold in my life,
The title that’s known
As a truck driver’s wife.
Now, women all know
Being married is rough.
But, marry a trucker,
And then let’s talk tough!
The miles that they run,
And, the job that they do,
Gives us grey hairs,
And fries our nerves too.
And when they get lonely,
And call up the house,
Who’s there for ‘em to turn to?
it ain’t Mickey Mouse!
But, through all the turmoil,
The stress, struggle, and strife,
Those men appreciate
The finer things in life,
And they’ll thank their lucky stars
For a truck drivers wife!
My Dad drove a big grocery truck,
An eighteen-wheeler it was,
It gave me a thrill just to look at that monster,
But to ride in it gave me a buzz.
Dad drove for the Kroger Grocery stores-
He drove all over the state,
Sometimes sixteen or eighteen hours a day
Just to give people the food which they ate.
I will always have a soft spot in my heart-
For the guys and gals who drive today,
They have to go to school for a start-
Then drive long hours for their pay.
My Dad was a very careful driver-
He only had one accident in sixteen years,
He had driven for fifteen hours with only two hours sleep-
Then dozed off at the wheel which was always something to fear
My Dad worked hard all of his life,
My respect for him grew and grew-
Then as I became older-I realized
What it really meant to be a truck-driver's daughter.
An Impossible Dream (A Cry of a Truck Pusher)
The street is my home
It is where I belong
I know no love
So I make it not part of my daily vocabulary
One sachet of pure water
Enough to perform the magic
In cooling down the body
The small lotto kiosk is my sleeping place
My heart was filled with merry
The day she looked my way
I wish to dream a dream
Even if I lost my memory
Her beauty I will always remember
But we both belong to different worlds
I push and pick before the hand can go to the mouth
She is welcomed with smiles
With servants at her beck and call
What am I feeling?
Is it love?
But how can this be
Love is not love
I can only dream of her love
I can only visualise her embrace
I can only imagine her warmth and kisses
Oh! Allow me to dream a dream
I have long suffered on this street
For tomorrow may not be mine
Don’t blame me,
Maybe I have a slow faith
From her posture
I knew she were a creature
And it’s in her nature
To capture my heart
Oh! How I wish I were a preacher
To tell the world about the moisture in her love
Oh! How I wish I were a teacher
To lecture about how she will feature
In my future dreams.
But it is just an impossible dream
Because I am only a truck pusher.
The Truck Driver
By Elton Camp
Bruce had a job he wasn’t wild about.
He drove a big truck on a regular route.
Then on one fine summer day,
He stopped at a café on the way.
Bruce was sitting at the bar on a stool
Minding his business as was his rule.
On a cup of strong coffee he did sip.
So he’d stay alert for the long trip.
From the parking lot came a roar.
The sound the waitress did abhor.
“It’s that horrible motorcycle gang.
As always, I’m in for a harangue.”
Into the room they stalked with a smirk.
Each one appeared to be a dirty jerk.
Their cursing and sneering was a disgrace.
Each had a scraggly beard covering his face.
“Hello, baby, you cute little miss.
This time, how about a big kiss?”
Bruce looked the thug in the eye.
“A little courtesy you should try.”
The thug threw the coffee in his face.
“A little man like you is a disgrace.”
Bruce just calmly wiped the coffee away.
He went out the door with nothing to say.
To the waitress he spit, “Not much of a man, is he?
With that, even a slut like you will have to agree.”
“He’s not a very good driver I’d have to say.
He just crushed ten motorcycles on his way.”