It was the summer before sixth grade. I remember the heavy growl of the rumbling truck filled the air as the last of the boxes were placed in the back. With a screech and a clatter, the dreary back door slid down and fastened in place. I stood on the driveway speechless and stared at my childhood home. It felt so distant, unfamiliar with its contents devoured by the grumbling vehicle behind me. My thoughts lingered about the house and for a moment, the air stilled, the rumbling calmed, and it was just me and home. The moment passed, but I found myself unable to move. My feet planted to the ground and my stare became blank and vacant. Why am I leaving? I don't want to go. The words persisted in my head, filling in all the crevices of my mind. When a solemn "It's time to go" entered my head, I snapped out of my daze, and I trudged towards the truck. I strapped myself in and the truck began moving. Looking out the window, I watched as home shrunk and shrunk with every passing second, until it was just a speckle so far away. …show more content…
The sun was setting, emitting a burnt red and orange glow across the sky. The once stagnant air grew bitter and cold. A lump formed in my throat and butterflies ravaged my stomach as I stared at the unknown building that loomed over me. This isn't my home, I declared firmly in my head. It was this moment that I began to reject my new circumstances. Unloading and unpacking my belongings, nothing appeared to be right. Frustrated, I ceased unpacking. Boxes strewn about the room - a mess. The lump in my throat never seemed to pass, nor did the butterflies in my stomach seem to disappear. I don't want to be here, I want to go home, I whimpered in my head. The misery accumulated and filled my head. Why did everything have to change? Why did everything have to be
She picked a seat in the way back, away from all the people. She silently stared out the window making a quiet list inside her head of all the things she had forgotten and all the people she remembered. Tears silently slid down her face as she remembered her aunt crying and cousins afraid of the dark in their house. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was the best for everyone she thought. Deep down though she knew how hard it would be for everyone to find out she was leaving. From her family’s tears, to the lady in the grocery store who was always so kind and remembered her name. She also knew how
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
B&G Express Trucking, LLC, is a family operated trucking company established in Four Oaks North Carolina. The company started in 1985 by Bob and Gloria Wagner, and is operated under the authority of Bill Patterson Trucking. In 2012 B&G Express become a limited liability corporation. The company owns 11 trucks and 32 trailers. The company also has 18 employees, which is made up of 15 truck drivers, 2 mechanics, and a dispatcher.
How long had it been now? Days, weeks, months? There was simply no telling as it felt just like yesterday when I last stood here. The clouds above oozed and wafted the sun, casting a shadowy darkness onto the house in the distance.
Truck driving is a difficult job which requires great responsibility of transferring the goods from one place to other far place with proper safety. Genuine CDL training is required by every aspiring truck driver to attain essential skills as a professional driver. These training programs are meant not only help the students learn about the possible ways to handle and manage their trucks in most adverse traffic and weather conditions, but also, this training helps them to learn how to prevent any major loss of the goods during the transference.
The moving truck crawled to a stop in front of the tiny house next door. I watched out the window, interested in who might be moving in. A frail old lady wrapped her arm around her husband’s as they walked up the slightly sloped driveway. The man caught me staring out the window and smiled unexpectedly. My face grew hot and red with embarrassment as I smiled back. I looked down at the scattered mess of homework that covered my desk. The sun hit the giant purple crystal around my neck perfectly, creating a distorted reflection of light on the wall.
Being a long-haul trucker can be grueling. The last thing you should have to worry about is whether or not your truck will be able to perform during 8-hour hauls. This is why it’s crucial for a trucker to take preventative measures when it comes to the general upkeep of their vehicle. Truck maintenance is not only essential for the successful delivery of products, but for the safety of, you, the trucker. Here are 5 ways to extend the life of your truck.
The Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration (FMCSA) sets for rules and regulations for commercial truck drivers and trucking companies to protect the public because we must share the road with these extremely large and dangerous vehicles. Accidents involving commercial trucks result in the death or injury of the occupants of the other vehicles in over 70 percent of truck accidents. Due to the weight and size of a commercial truck, the injuries in a truck accident are usually catastrophic.
All of a sudden, my legs stop working, as they often do in dreams, and I stand stock still, taking in the new landscape. Here on the outskirts of the city, where the half-demolished structures are still visible on the horizon, I notice that the wind is silent. Instead, a soft breeze rustles the trees, trees that grow leaves like the one that now lies, suffocated beneath hot, black goo. I hear the sound of rushing water and turn my head to see a small brook at the base of a grassy hill. Above me, the sky is blue and the sun shines, and all at once I feel at
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.
The day arrived to move out of this ghostly home in Indiana and move on to a new location. I remember wearing shorts and a sleeveless top as we all squeezed in the back of the station wagon. I didn’t say goodbye to Pamela, she was working when we left. My dad pulled out across the yard cutting over onto the neighbor’s property using their wide long driveway as the flight road. I gazed back at the tiny white home that sit on nearly two acres of land, believing one day when I get back, I will dig up the treasure I buried. A tiny light blue plastic treasure chest I received from a box of Cracker Jacks; back then these gifts were pretty nice, it even open and closed snapping shut as a real treasure chest. I had to leave “a promise to return” behind.
After my parents’ divorce, I found myself in a new, unfamiliar home with my mom. I missed my purple walls that, when the right lighting from the sun hit them, epitomized crocus flowers dancing in a gentle breeze. The beautiful photographs, and the pleasurable posters that had once been on display for all to see were now hidden within the confines of beige boxes, encapsulated in a beige dungeon. In an attempt to distract myself from my current sorrows, I begin to unpack the boxes.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
As I slipped under the coarse bedsheets and felt the hard wooden bed frame press against my shoulder, the world slipped away from me. When I finally awoke, the buzzing of the kitchen fan, the creaking of the wooden flooring, and the soft banter of the grandparents were all gone. It was pitch black save for a red light projected against the ceiling. I sat up and stared out the window.