Engines wear out. Trailers crack. Parts fail. Those are breakdowns a trucker expects. But what happens when the body behind the wheel starts to give out? This chapter isn’t about mechanical failures — it’s about me and the toll that nearly five decades on the road has taken.
After all the equipment breakdowns I’ve described in the last couple of chapters — caused by excessive miles, brutal roads, and the never-ending grind — it’s only right that I also tell the story of my own breakdown. Not the kind with tow trucks and repair bills, but the kind that creeps up slowly until one day, you realize you can’t keep going the way you always have.
My back had been deteriorating rapidly since 2014. By 2016, an MRI revealed what I already feared: surgery to stabilize my spine was on the horizon. Still, I pushed on. Truckers are stubborn like that. I told myself I could tough it out, that I could keep climbing in and out of the cab, chaining down loads, and driving the long hours. But pain has a way of catching up to you.
It all came to a head a little over two years ago. I had been trying to figure out a way to cool the sleeper at night without idling the truck. I found an ad for a cooler called IcyBreeze and decided to give it a try. Along with it, I ordered three ice bottles designed to last longer by filling them with a salt-water mix before freezing.
The first time I tried pulling one of those bottles out of the freezer, I never imagined the trouble it would cause. They had expanded so much that it took everything I had — every ounce of leverage and strength in my right leg — to yank it free. When it finally broke loose, my hip popped so loud I swore it was dislocated.
I sat there for ten minutes, afraid to stand, afraid I wouldn’t be able to walk. When I finally got up, I could move, but the strength in my right hip was gone. I went on working, but over the next two weeks, walking became harder and harder. One day, I couldn’t even climb back into my semi with both legs. I had to use only my left leg to haul myself up.
That was the day reality hit me. I wasn’t just dealing with worn-out equipment anymore — I was dealing with a worn-out body.
I managed to limp along until I got home. My wife called my grandson, who met me at the T/A in Seymour. He fueled my truck for me, then followed me to the shop where I parked it. He also brought me crutches. I hated using them, but I had no choice.
After six chiropractor sessions and a week on crutches, I finally managed to walk again. I went back to driving, but deep down I knew the truth — this was temporary. Sure enough, about a year later, my hip seized up again. This time it wasn’t bad enough to stop me, and I got by with medicated patches and pain cream. But I knew I was only buying time.
When I look back now, I realize I gambled with my health. I thought sheer determination could overcome pain and physical limits. For a while, it worked. But the road always collects its toll, one way or another.
—
Hashtags:
#TruckingLife #IndependentContractor #HealthOnTheRoad #BackProblems #TruckDriverStories #EndOfTheRoad #ATruckersLife
My Trucker Life 