A Quote by Johnny Van Zant
My dad was a truck driver. We all used to ride along with him. And the way he'd keep awake was to sing while he was going down the road. So we all joined in.
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I don't think there's any real motivation for somebody to be a truck driver. Mine was simple; dad was a truck driver, I wanted to own one.
I used to listen to my dad a lot as a way of trying to be close to him, as well, because my parents were divorced and I didn't spend that much time with him. And I used to put headphones on and listen to my dad talk and sing and I found that quite... bonding with him, in a weird way.
In bobsled, you work as a team - a driver and a brakeman. Both athletes push, but the brakeman's biggest responsibility is to push as fast as she can and get in and ride down in a good aerodynamic position. The driver helps to push but gets in first and then steers the sled down the track. We aren't just along for the ride, despite how it looks!
A truck driver was driving along on the freeway. A sign comes up that reads, Low Bridge Ahead. Before he knows it, the bridge is right ahead of him and he gets stuck under the bridge. Cars are backed up for miles. Finally a police car comes up. The cop gets out of his car and walks to the truck driver, puts his hands on his hips and says, Got stuck, huh? The truck driver says, No, I was delivering this bridge and ran out of gas.
I used to listen to my dad a lot as a way of trying to be close to him, as well, because my parents were divorced and I didnt spend that much time with him. I used to put head phones on and listen to my dad talk and sing and kind of had a weird bonding in a way.
My dad was a truck driver, and from the time I was knee high to a grapevine, I was driving a truck.
When I was a kid, my step dad started this business and would go out and get lost cows and stuff. He was part-time truck driver, farmer and cowboy. He taught me how to ride from an early age.
People often talk about the self-driving car and what will that do. In 32 states, the number one job is to be the driver. But remember, it's not just the driver. Let's think about the truck stops along the way. When you suddenly have a lot of other people who are dependent on those careers.
A big business man was telling Henry Ford about a coach driver of super-expertness with his whip. The driver was telling how he could flick a fly off his horse's ear with his whip-and, a fly alighting just then, he promptly did so. Next he spied a grasshopper beside the road, and he flicked it off with equal dexterity. A little further along the road the passenger noticed an insect on a bush, and nudged the driver to get him. Not on your life, replied the master of the whip. That there insect is a hornet sitting on his nest with an organization behind him. I leave him alone.
Was I always going to be here? No I was not. I was going to be homeless at one time, a taxi driver, truck driver, or any kind of job that would get me a crust of bread. You never know what's going to happen.
Cyclists need to help themselves and should not jump red lights. I would ride in London, but I certainly wouldn't ride like that; you just have to be careful. I can understand going down the outside of traffic, but you should obey the rules of the road because we're all road users.
I love the smell of Waffle House; it's the smell of freedom, being on the open road and knowing that ninety percent of the people eating around you are also on that road. Truck driver's, road-trippers, hangovers--those who don't live that monotonous life of society slavery.
My dad was a cross-country truck driver.
The road to hell is paved with reasonable religion with a non-anxious god. Most days, I'm pretty happy driving down that road. But I keep running into this Crazy Fellow along the way. At every stop light, he jumps up and down to get my attention. He pounds on my window asking me where the heck I think I'm going. He stands on the front bumper, shouting at me to turn around. When all else fails, he throws himself in front of the car. He's such a drama queen.
I came upon a child of god, He was walking along the road And I asked him, where are you going And this he told me: "I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band I'm going to camp out on the land, I'm going to try an' get my soul free.
My father was a truck driver, made $50 a week. And the reason why I know that so vividly is my Mom used to just constantly give him a hard time for that.
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