10-4 Magazine / June 2025 73 Poetry in Motion: By Trevor Hardwick GIDDY-UP-GO! Dreams we dream, sometimes never die, I guess I’m just that kind of guy. I’ve rolled the hills and crossed the plains, And carried on, my family name. Growing up, I do recall... Just mom and me, and that was all. We moved around from place to place, As drier climates, she would chase. She’d talk about my old man some, “That’s where your handsome looks come from.” He drove a truck, that’s all I know, And named that old rig, Giddy-Up-Go. “When dad pulled in, you’d jump for joy, And he sure loved his little boy.” “Giddy-Up-Go! You’d shout with pride, So, that was painted on the side.” I don’t remember much from back then, Just stories mom would share of him. I never asked... she never said... If dad was still alive, or dead. We moved around, then settled down, In a dusty Arizona town. A truck stop, out on 66... She worked there, until she got sick. We moved again, that one last time, And that’s when mama’s health declined. I turned sixteen when mama passed, She said these words, then breathed her last: “I know you’re longing for the road... It’s time for you to Giddy-Up-Go... You’re free to chase that setting sun... And drive a truck... like father, like son.” I love old truckin’ tunes. When I was a kid, while my peers were jammin’ to popular current music, I was reciting lyrics to songs like Six Days On The Road (Dave Dudley), Looking at the World Through a Windshield, Convoy, and all the rest. Some of the best trucking tunes were actually recitations rather than songs. For example, Red Sovine recorded “Giddy-Up-Go” about a truck driver who became unexpectedly separated from his wife and young son through a series of unfortunate events. But after several years, facilitated by a simple nameplate on his truck, inspired by his little boy, an unlikely reunion became possible. Later, Minnie Pearl recited a sequel to that story titled “Giddy-Up-Go Answer” which recalls the same story, although it’s told from the perspective of a waitress who was a friend and coworker of the mother in the original story. She witnesses the reunion between the father and the son and recognizes them from the stories her friend would share. That is the last we hear of this story, as far as I know, but we never heard from the son’s perspective. So, I urge you to listen to Giddy-Up-Go by Red Sovine. Then, listen to Giddy-Up-Go Answer by Minnie Pearl (and have a tissue nearby). After all that, I invite you to come back here and read the following poem, which is something I have imagined since I was a kid, called Giddy-Up-Go (Part 3) – from the boy’s perspective. I don’t claim to be on the same level of storytelling as Red Sovine and Minnie Pearl were on these Tommy Hill classics, but hopefully you’ll enjoy it, nonetheless. I hit the road, and didn’t look back, I drove a hood that was long and black. Out in front, she was made to roll, And on the back, read “Giddy-Up-Go!” I held the left lane, most of the time, I’d roll the coal and let ‘er whine. But then I passed this old man’s truck, And on my tail, is where he stuck. I guess he’d found a good front door, As we mashed the pedals to the oor. I’d wind ‘er up... he’d stay right there, Kicked-back in the rockin’ chair. That truck stop, out on 66... Where mama worked, ‘til she got sick... I always stop to ll ‘em up... My diesel tanks, and co ee cup. He followed me to the old truck stop, And paid my bill, while talkin’ shop. The waitress seemed a bit perplexed, When she overheard what he said next... “How’d you come by the name on your truck?” And something about that, kind of stuck. “Well,” I said, “I got it from my pop... That’s what mom talked about a lot.” “She said he got the name from me,” He shook my hand, sincerely. “There’s something I’d like you to see... If you don’t mind, would you follow me?” We walked out to the old man’s truck, Its paint was hashed and covered in muck. But when he wiped the nameplate clear, My eyes began to ll with tears. “Giddy-Up-Go” in faded paint, Was lettered, although pretty faint. I read those words, and looked at him, And gave a hereditary grin. Dreams we dream, sometimes never die... I guess I’m just that kind of guy... The lines on the highway have a brighter glow, As we stare at signs that read “Giddy-Up-Go!”
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