We humans are always buying, selling, and trading stuff and we have been doing this for a long, long time. Of course all this buying, selling, trading, building, making and growing things to sell, requires transportation. Through time, we've used camels, donkeys, wagons, boats, and ships, and now our modern transportation system is an often overlooked wonder of our times. It's just what humans do. We are always moving things around!

Practically everything you have or touch on any given day was transported, probably multiple times. The shoes you wear, the milk in your refrigerator, your new bed with those number settings, the car in your driveway, even the mail sitting on the kitchen table that you just brought in from the mail box, it was all transported---and most likely, it was transported by a Truck.

I'm sitting at a truck stop in Missouri as I write this, and pulling by me on their way out of the facility is a constant parade of trucks. A tanker truck full of some kind of hazardous chemical just left. A truck hauling some kind of grain was right behind the tanker, and parked over there is a double-trailer package truck making sure that all those online orders are delivered on time. My last load was a load of apples, and now I'm hauling 18 tons of of jams and jellies.

I recently read a description of the trucking industry as the circulatory system of our country, and from what I can see, this is a very appropriate description. Drive down any interstate in any part of the country any time day or night, rain or shine, snow or heat, and what will you see? You'll see trucks moving along through this country's highway veins and arteries like the red blood cells carrying oxygen throughout the body. Without trucking, our modern way of life as we know it would be in serious jeopardy.

Each truck has a story. There's a shipper who loaded the truck; there's a consignee who receives the goods. There's a bill of lading to describe and sometimes transfer ownership of the goods. And in every truck, there's at least one driver. So all that stuff in your life and mine, it came by truck but trucks don't just go from here to there all by themselves (yet)...there was a pair of hands on that steering wheel, a set of eyes looking in the mirror while backing up to the dock. There was perhaps a lonely night in an obscure, dark truck stop---another night away from home.

In my opinion, truck drivers are some of our true American heroes. Many are small business owners. They put together enough money to get a loan or a lease and get a truck of their own. Trucking is one of the great small business generators in our economy. Truck drivers are young, middle-aged, and many could have, or should have retired years ago, but there they are, still driving. Many new immigrants to this country find their way into trucking. Truckers are men, women, couples, cowboys, city folk, military veterans, and more. Trucking truly is a whole cross section of Americans, all working very hard to survive and to secure part of the American dream for themselves.

I've been in the world of trucking just long enough to have met some incredibly nice, helpful people. People who by the very nature of this industry, I will never see or speak to again. Some truckers for sure are careless, lazy, and rude...but most of the ones that I've met and had the occasion to interact with have been very nice.

One day, I was picking up a load at a large beer distillery. The procedures for picking up a load it seemed, were always changing, and so one could never be too comfortable in the routine. This time, the procedure required all incoming trucks to back up to just three available warehouse doors to have some packing material loaded in each incoming empty trailer. After check in at the gate, there was a mad rush for the three doors. I swung around and started backing up to the middle door, only to realize about halfway through my maneuver that I had cutoff a truck coming from the other direction, and clearly intending to back up to the same door that I was. After I completed my backing and while waiting for the material to be loaded, the truck next to me was able to reset and then backed up to the loading dock immediately next to me. I got out of my truck and went over to apologize to the driver for the inconvenience I had no doubt caused. The driver next to me turned out to be a young lady. She was very nice, and said that it wasn't a problem at all, in fact, that another driver from my company had helped her out earlier in the day to understand the new routine. “That's great.” I said “It's like we're one big brotherhoo....” and then I caught myself. It's not really a brotherhood if there are women here too. “It's like a big neighborhood.” I continued, correcting my near mistake. However clumsy my words that day, I did feel part of a unique culture of hard working and dedicated Americans.

So whatever you touch, see, or use, a pair of hands brought that to you. I have been introduced to the grand miraculous circulatory network of hard working men and women, America's truckers.