The Cynical Career Counsellor Explains Your Future As a

Long Distance Trucker

Hi kid--so you want to drive the big rigs? I remember when I was in high school--there was this whole CB radio craze, and then this really cool movie "Convoy"--well, actually, it was kind of stupid, and then there was this Stephen King story that they made into a movie called "Duel", and that was... Oh, right.

So, you may want to finish high school--though it doesn't really matter. Don't tell anybody I said that though. You'll need to go to one of those truck driving schools--be prepared for lots of people honking and giving you the finger for a few weeks while you roll backwards at traffic lights--you may crush a car or two, but eventually you'll get the hang of it. Once you've got the air brakes ticket and the license, you're set to go. You could drive for someone else, or you could save up, borrow, and beg to buy your own truck.

Don't worry that it's got well over half a million miles on the engine--a Cummins diesel's good for at least a million, easy. You might as well live with the chrome mud flaps with the traditional naked chick on them--that plays well in the inbred small towns where you'll be parking to eat most of your fried chicken and hamburger meals that will give you your first heart attack before you're 40. You'll spend so many hours inside the cabover that the rank smell of your own sweat will be a welcome comfort as you settle down for a quick nap on the side of the highway. Eventually your loneliness will make you propose to the waitress from the cafe next to your truck company office after she tells you she's knocked up--which turns out to be a lie, you later discover.

You regret the marriage almost as soon as it happens, buy you've got the perfect job to escape it almost full time. When kids finally do come, you don't worry about the fact that neither of them resembles you in the slightest, and the math around the birthdays is a little sketchy... You're gonna keep sending home the paychecks either way--the cash you get for the overweight runs--you know how to avoid the scales--goes straight in your pocket, and Luellen's none the wiser.

Like all truckers, you rely on uppers to keep you awake on the long runs, and on downers to counter the uppers when you need to crash. Coupled with your greasy spoon diet, you've had three heart episodes before you decided to convert to a healthier lifestyle--you'll smoke when you get hungry to drop that extra 30 pounds that's hanging over your belt. That way everyone can see the belt better--it's one of those beauts with a six inch buckle showing a 1967 Kenworth leaving all others in the dust...

In spite of yourself, soon you know the words to every Willie Nelson song ever written, and while you try listening to books on tape, only country music can sing the pain in your lonely, truck-drivin' soul. You've flattened more racoons at 70 mph than you ever dreamed you would, but you'll never retire, because there just ain't a pension plan for the long-haulers. Don't worry, though, with your heart--you'll be lucky to see 60. Have fun...

More Career Advice Here...