48 10-4 Magazine / October 2025 scream for attention or boast about how important they thought they were. They simply went about their business, moving the goods needed to the places they needed them to be. Along the way they were misunderstood, mistreated and simply missed at home. Today, we throw around terms like “old school” and “trucker” even “legend” to honor some who shine as today’s brightest stars. I would ask, is this a true measure, given the standard set in a time of sacrifice by the men and a few women who truly are the legends of their time? Do we do justice to the machines that forged a tradition of doing the impossible at a time when it took muscle, blood and bone to command the steel, glass and rubber of the 18 wheels of time to build the legacy we ride on today? Fifty years from now I don’t think anyone will be saying, “Man, look at that cool old Volvo” or “Damn, look at that classic Cascadia!” They will more than likely say something like, “Can you believe back then drivers were ushering in the age of driverless trucks? They were so stupid they ran themselves out of a job. Let’s be honest, the Rubbermaid trucks of today won’t make it that long. It’s not just the fact they aren’t made that well, but more to the point, the drivers (or steering wheel holders) of today don’t respect the machines enough to care for them like the drivers of the past. Few of today’s operators care for their employers like in years gone by. Years ago, many drivers spent their entire career at the same company, and those companies survived for several generations (history passed down from father to son). Most of those experiences are the very basis we operate on today. The next time you glance out the window and see one of those relics from a forgotten time, slow down and take a moment to really see it and pay your respect to the machine. Tip your hat or nod your head in recognition of an icon. Give a blast on your air horn (if you still have one) to salute the driver, should they still be around. Should you have some time to kill, safely pull over, park, and find your way back to the place it rests. If you can, find the owner and ask for a tour – don’t just assume it’s junk and snoop around. If you’re looking to buy an old truck and the owner says no, respect that and let it be. Don’t come back to pester them every month. But, if you are really interested, engage the old guy in conversation and listen to the stories from his past, like the hair-raising tales of how he held it on the road after blowing a steer tire or the time his brakes faded rolling overloaded down a steep grade. They all have at least one story about a snowstorm and the time they nearly froze to death. These aren’t Discovery Channel renditions of a “how it could have been” – it’s the real story, straight from the master’s mouth. After the fact and over the course of time, the stories get a little more interesting each time they’re told, but that’s half the fun of hearing their stories. Most of the time these trucks are not for sale – not because they don’t have value, but because they connect the owner/driver to their past. It’s common to hear, “One of these days I’m gonna get it out.” That day will most likely never come, but it’s the comfort of knowing there is still a part of their past that inspires them to dream, reminisce, and remember their glory days gone by. I mentioned earlier in this article how I’m reminded of these things when I wander through my own backyard. I too have one of my early rides – one I’ve owned, driven, and dreamed about for more than 30 years. I drove it for 22 years and crisscrossed almost every major interstate highway (along with a fair number of two lanes) along the way. It will not be for sale, at least not in my lifetime. After that, the family may sell it, as their connection isn’t the same as mine. I too will, from time to time, open the door and climb into the cab (moving the mice aside) and grip that wheel with a familiar feel. Just sitting there looking over the faded and peeling hood gives me solace – it comforts my aching soul that longs for the days of C.B. chatter, chicken lights, and one more tall cup of coffee before hitting the road. I can’t help but get emotional thinking about strolling the boulevard in the old days with the big rollers of that time. The cabover KWs, International 4070s, and many GMCs with 2-stroke Detroits, just to name a few. We were young, alive and living a dream! Early friendships were forged that still stand. Most of the trucks are gone – wrecked, scrapped, parted out for glider kits or, like mine, parked in the backyard. As for the drivers, they too have faded into the general population, almost unrecognizable to most, but still proud of their contribution. The legacy they left can be seen in the withered lines on their face and the quiet respect they pay to the next generation of road warriors. It is incumbent on each of us to pay homage to the drivers and their iron horses of yesteryear, especially when we find them hiding in plain sight! n
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