How did a 50-something,well brought up mother from London, England land up driving an 18 wheeler across The United States? It became much more complicated than you’d imagine. However, adventures are adventures and hiccups are where the stories lay…

Last Updated on Thursday, 26 January 2012 06:00 Written by tateskate Thursday, 26 January 2012 06:00

Why on earth would a fifty-something, nicely brought-up mother all of a sudden decide to go trucking?

It was a first-rate question and, like the majority of good questions it had answers both easy and complex. From ‘it sounds like fun’ through ‘it’s an authentic immigrant job’ via ‘well, earn more dollars in a truck than I’m able to using a Master’s degree’ with a detour along ‘I’ve driven ambulances and stretch limos, if I want to be bigger it’s either a truck or possibly a plane and this course is cheaper’…none of these reasons quite encapsulated everything.

And these were merely the rationalisations for the much vaguer pull towards the massive beasties that I’d been enjoying watching on the roads ever since emigrating from the UK to Canada. There was clearly no rationalisation needless to say for the other vague pull, a lifelong obsession with doing things merely because they are a tad weird.

Adding to my list of excuses that it appeared to be a great angle for a book on trucking helped a bit when trying to explain to those who have no imagination, however, not much.

In fact, I hadn’t expected panic when I breezed into Tri-County Truck Driver Training one afternoon in 2008. I just wished to find out what it took to become a lady trucker. I wanted to see the USA, how hard would it be?

Obviously there is a tiny difference between studying to handle a 75-foot, slow-moving guided missile and dreaming of getting money to see the continent; and actually earning a living. Spending 14 hours every day smelling of diesel. My first job was taking trailers packed with mail from East to West. Team driving across Canada’s endless prairies and over The Rockies, and sometimes getting lucky enough to get home via Texas. That Lake Effect Winter Storm was just an example of our countless weather-related narrow squeaks. North American trucking can be quite the drama.

I’ve been almost arrested in Baltimore, sick as a dog in Tennessee, terrified in Chicago, Dallas and Detroit and dug out from the snow twice in a night in Alberta. I’ve made pals in Virginia and foes in Ontario. And, given half a chance, I might probably forget about how impossibly strenious it is and go out again to steer 18 wheels over the horizon.