Hello, I’m a Truck
You’ve heard songs about truck drivers, many times their story’s told
How they pulled out of Pittsburg for six days on the road
‘Bout that feather river canyon, and climbing that old grapevine
That old roadhouse down in Texas, and the girls they left behind
You’ve heard their tales of daring, and I think that’s just fine
But if you could spare a minute, well, I’d like to tell you mine
There’d be no truck driver’s if it wasn’t for us trucks
No double-clutching gear, Jammin’ coffee, drinking nuts
They’ll drive their way to glory, and they have all the luck
There’d be no truck drivers if it wasn’t for us trucks
Well, there he sits in that café drinking coffee and telling lies
Probably telling ’em ’bout how he topped that hill ten miles back
Otto tells ’em how he missed a gear, and that Volkswagen
A bus full of hippies passed us like I was sittin’ up on jacks
Or how we took that curve over on 66
Have been for me hanging on the shoulder
We’d a both wound up in the ditch
If we’re on time, he takes the credit, if we’re late, I get the blame
Up those hills with shutters open, my stacks running flame
My tech running red-line, sippin’ diesel from the tanks
I’ll take him south and bring him back without a word of thanks
So now you’ve heard my story, and I guess it’s my tough luck
There’d be no truck drivers if it wasn’t for us trucks
There’d be no truck driver’s if it wasn’t for us trucks
No double-clutching gear, Jammin’ coffee, drinking nuts
They’ll drive their way to glory, and they have all the luck
There’d be no truck drivers if it wasn’t for us trucks
Look at him sippin’ coffee and flirting with that waitress
And where do you think he left me? That’s right, next to a cattle truck
Why couldn’t he have put me next to that little pink Mack sittin’ over there
Gosh, she’s got pretty mud-flaps, and talk about stacked, they’re both chromed
Well, he’ll be coming out in a minute, and he’ll get that bar
And he’ll go around and beat on my tires, you know, for two pints of diesel
I’d have a flat on the inside dual, ha, that’d fix him
I never did like the way he drives anyhow
Thinks he’s God’s gift of waitresses, huh, he never gives ’em a tip
Well, I know what he’s going to do now
He’s goin’ to take out that tape cartridge of Buck Owens, and play it again
I don’t know why he doesn’t get a Merle Haggard tape