The Home Stretch
For some, home is the road. For Mike P., it’s a farm in Tennessee, and he’s heading there. Shower be damned, he’s not spending the $10; his destination is right around the corner — within arm’s reach. It may seem like an eternity to the four-wheelers, but four and a half hours is nothing when you average 3,000 miles a week. Though he’s not without some comforts, like the enormous flat-screen TV in his sleeper, nothing compares to home.
If I wasn’t doing this, I’d be a farmer. It was farmin’ or truckin’. Mike P.
He lives on the family farm where he was raised, and where he learned the family business of trucking from his father. And if he wasn’t a trucker, he would have been at peace as a farmer. He has a few old cows, a bull, some horses and chickens. In the spring he sells the calves. On average he makes about $1.40 per pound. Nothing you could live on, but it’s a nice bit of spare change.
At home, his wife is waiting for him. A fresh home-cooked meal in the oven. They are still as in love with each other now as the day they were married. When asked about bringing her along in the rig, Mike says, “I run solo, no wife in the truck.” But absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. Luckily, he’ll be there soon.