I can still remember when I first just passed my test,
Remember the good feeling and puffing out my chest.
My family listened fifty times that I was going far,
In something ten times bigger than their little car.
Bought myself an atlas, A to Zs and all,
Dreamed about 88s like the posters on my wall.
Oh lorry-driving, I gave you all the best years of my life,
All the leaving on a Sunday, all the driving all ■■■■ night.
I was so busy having nights-out and clocking up the miles
While you were changing your direction and I never knew
That I was always one step behind you.
74 seemed like the year I was really going somewhere,
Delivering stuff for BRS and the union always there.
With a bed across the seats in an draughty old Scammell
Praying for a sleeper cab and a chance of sleeping well.
And then onto 78 and off to Felixstowe
Thought I was making headway, containers, way to go,
Probably the easiest job that I ever had,
Reflected in reward being quite so very bad.
81 saw Europe and the steepest learning curve
Running money, permits and tank-scheins for the DERV.
Shipping-out and stripping-out while trying to pull the birds,
Danke bitte grazie prego and other foreign words.
In 84, the Middle-East seemed the way to go,
Shame by then the rates were shot but I didn’t know.
King of the Road in a Scania, model one-four-one,
Although snowed-in in Commie-blok wasn’t a lot of fun.
86 and the Euro Union welcomed in our Spain.
Twenty-six pallet fridges became the name of the game,
Chasing after ferries while having to pull the fuse,
All the northern markets with toms, caps and cues.
By 92 I thought I’d cracked it, finally delivering cars,
But all transporter glory days were long since passed.
Even being the steward for the good old T and G
Couldn’t make a decent pay check like it used to be.
98 on holiday is when I met Suzanne,
I told her all my troubles and she seemed to understand.
Moved into her place and a love affair began,
Trouble was, the poor girl wanted to dominate her man.
No more continental, why can’t you drive a van?
04 and finally, the courage to say “Goodbye.”
Flew away determined to give Canada a try.
Big double drive in the hooded style,
Straps, tarps and flatbeds, 40 cents per mile,
Log books with driving fourteen hours a day,
But still with scant rewards as regards to pay.
Sixty-five in 18 and so eager to retire,
I leave it as I found it, deep down in the mire.
So lorry-driving, you had all the best years of my life,
All the leaving on a Sunday, all driving all ■■■■ night,
I was having all the nights-out and clocking up the miles,
While you were changing your direction and I never knew,
That I was always, just one step behind you.
Acknowledgement to Kevin Johnson.