A Fork in the Trail

It was cold. I pulled back the curtain to reveal the world outside beyond the windshield. The night before, in a raging snowstorm, I pulled into this truck stop on the turnpike. Now the truck I was driving was stuck, buried deep in snow amongst the other tractor trailers.  

Months ago I had signed up to haul freight along the east coast of the United States.

I didn’t have to do it. I was restless and I took a hiatus from my job to do something completely different. Would a new life be in the cards?

I am frequently bitten by the travel bug. I feel the itch to see new places and experience new things. Working as a commercial truck driver was an incredible experience that I do not regret, but over that year on the road I realized it was not going to work out for me. I had seen places throughout the country that I had never visited before. This voyage of discovery had a caveat. I was tied to the truck, even more than I had been a prisoner behind my computer at work. I could not leave the truck and at the end of the day. My time was my own, but I was held within that invisible barrier. Waking every day, I drove to new places, but not where I wanted to go. This “on the go” lifestyle was challenging to be sure, and made me appreciate the greater freedom I had outside of the transportation industry. I wanted to see what was over the horizon, but needed to also determine the direction. When I finally walked away, I was lucky I was able to return to the career that I had put on hold. 

I vowed to go back to my previous job, but things would be different. Whatever my future held I would make sure that I would not be trapped inside an office or a truck or any job that robbed me of my freedom to explore. I would no longer live for work or be  defined by it. I would escape the cab, the office, the the desk. I venture outside.