My father lived and breathed trucking, and my older brother idolized it. But from what I saw and lived through as a kid, trucking was the very last road I ever wanted to take.
I’ll start this chapter by sharing that—despite all his business ventures—my dad was, first and foremost, a union trucker. When I was 7 or 8 years old, Dad changed jobs to drive over the road for Ellis Trucking Company.
Back then, OTR drivers worked long hours: a 12-hour day was the norm. That meant 10 hours of driving and 2 hours of on-duty time for things like dropping and hooking trailers, pre-trip and post-trip inspections, and fueling. After that, they were required to take an 8-hour off-duty break before getting dispatched again.
So, as you can imagine, my dad was a bit of a workaholic. I cannot emphasize enough that he was gone alot from my childhood.
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The Chore List That Shaped Us
Because he was gone so much, he left us three boys with a to-do list every time he hit the road. If that list didn’t get done, we felt the weight of his disappointment—and that was never good.
We weren’t just doing the usual kid chores. We had to maintain four separate properties that he owned—right there on our street. It was hard work, and we knew better than to cut corners.
At the time, we lived on the west side of Indianapolis in a neighborhood called Mickeyville, near the westbound I-465 off-ramp onto Washington Street, not far from what’s now the Indianapolis International Airport.
We stayed there until I was twelve. A lot happened during those years—some of it tough, and some of it beautiful.
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Loss and Change
My younger brother and sister were born during that time, and so was a mountain of responsibility. In 1969, our stepmom—their mother—passed away. That was a deep, painful loss for me. It left a permanent mark.
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Fred’s Dream and Grover’s Hauls
My older brother Fred had trucking in his blood from the time he was ten. He was obsessed with it. A lot of that came from our Uncle Grover, who was an Owner-Operator back in the ’60s and early ’70s.
Grover hauled meat to Florida and brought watermelons back home. During the summers, Fred and I would ride along with him. When it came time to unload those watermelons in the Anderson and Muncie areas of north-central Indiana, we’d help out.
Fred was in heaven on those summer trips—he lived for them.
And yes, Fred did fulfill his dream of becoming a trucker, which I’ll tell you more about in a later chapter.
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Why I Wanted No Part of It
Knowing how hard both my dad and uncle worked at being truckers—and how much work fell on us when Dad was gone, which seemed to me all the time—I was absolutely against the idea of following in their footsteps.
At that point in my life, trucking was the last thing I wanted to do. But sometimes, life steers you down roads you swore you’d never drive.
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Coming Up Next…
In Chapter 3, I’ll talk about the moment when, despite all my resistance, I took my first real step toward the trucking world. I didn’t know it then, but that one choice would define the next 47 years of my life.
Stay tuned—it gets better from here.
FamilyHistory #WorkEthic #TruckDriving #OverTheRoadTrucker #UnionTrucking #ChildhoodMemories #Indianapolis #LifeLessons #FamilyLegacy #HardWork #Motivation #LifeJourney #GritAndDetermination #FamilyStories #GrowingUp #TravelMemories #LifeLessons #ChildhoodStories #FamilyValues #DreamsAndGoals #Resilience #JourneyToSuccess #TruckingLife #FamilyInfluence #WorkHardPlayHard #PersonalGrowth #LifeUnfolding #Storytelling
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My Trucker Life 