My Addiction To Trucking Is Going To Kill Me

By Mel McConaghy

Mel McConaghyI was driving around town the other day, thinking about what it was that I was going to do, although I planned to put whatever I decided to do off until tomorrow, or maybe another day.

But, I still thought about it. I was driving on some obscure street, not paying much attention, when a forest of tall chrome exhaust pipes caught my eye.

Somehow, I ended up in front of the local Inland Kenworth dealer. Being an old truck driver, I instinctively drove into their yard, and was surrounded by what seemed like acres of big, colorful, chrome encrusted trucks. Having been going through trucking withdrawal for the last five years, after quitting the trucking industry cold turkey, I felt an old familiar feeling running through my body. A feeling that I had not felt since my voice started changing, and I started seeing girls in a whole different light.

My brain told me to turn around, and to get out of there as fast as my old car would carry me, but as always, I succumbed to my feelings. I turned the car off, got out, and began to examine the mammoth machines. I walked through the rows of big beautiful beasts, and temptation had me salivating. I just could not stop myself from running my hands over the sensuous curves of fenders and hoods. I polished a bit of chrome with my shirt sleeve and fondled the chain racks. I was in love again. But, when I turned around, there was another one, and then another, and yet another. I was in trucking heaven. I felt just like I did when I was as a nineteen year old sailor visiting Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen, Denmark. There were so many beautiful blond girls smiling at me that I didn’t know which ones to talk to.

I looked in the window of a truck with a gigantic sleeper. It had black and red upholstery, and a dashboard complete with three or four banks of chrome encircled gauges, that could keep a driver busy just looking at them. Then I thought, ‘This interior is sensuous. Why, if I were forty years younger, and could remember what I did in the bedroom, except sleep, this is how I’d decorate our bedroom’ (and, if the wife would let me). It was about this time that Dennis, one of the salesmen there, came out and asked me not to stand too close to the trucks (because I was drooling on them) and if he could help me. Pointing at the beauty with the black and red interior, I said, “Yeah, how much for this one?” When he told me, and saw my reaction, he asked if he should call 911, because I looked like I needed an ambulance. I reassured Dennis that I’d be alright, and, as he helped me back to my car, I thought to myself, ‘I need to stay away from this place if I plan to ever live long enough to see my great grandchildren’.

My Life Through a Broken Windshield by Mel McConaghy

Mel McConaghyMel McConaghy is a retired trucker and author from Prince George, British Columbia. Mel’s tales are his views of life “through a broken windshield”. They are entertaining and humorous in a folksy style.
Visit Mel’s website at

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