Chapter 2

 

KID of the 50ties

Chapter 2

 

      I must have been about 12or13 years old, back around the summer of 1949 or 50.  That big long nosed Peterbilt tractor pulled up beside me.  It was all black and had lots chrome and was pulling a 40-foot trailer behind it. I heard the air brakes go cha cha when it stopped.  I climbed up on the running board opened the door and crawled in.  The first thing I noticed was the driver. He was a little guy about 150 pounds with dark curly hair and a big smile on his face. I’m on my way to Florida for a load of oranges he said over the roar of the big loud diesel. Where you headed kid? Baltimore, I said, wishing I could go all the way with him. Well, you’re on your way he replied, and that big diesel took off with a roar. I had left the house in Drexel Hill, rode the trolley out to Media Pa. I was only going to hitch trucks down US-1 to Baltimore MD. And back again.  There were two long sticks sticking out of the floor, which he used to shift the transmission with.  He explained to me that there were two gear boxes behind a 220 Cummins engine with a turbo charger on the exhaust. Each box had four speeds he called holes. He would wrap his left arm through the huge steering wheel and shift the 1^st stick into low gear, and with his right arm shift the second stick through four gears. And than shift the 1^st stick into the second hole and then shift the second stick for more times. He would repeat this till he reached 16th gear, double clutching each gear, all the while talking to me. Inside the cab, there were about twenty gauges on the dash showing the condition of the engine. Behind me was a sleeper compartment with a hole just big enough to crawl through. Truckers called it the coffin because there was only one way in and out in those days. It was so neat looking out over that long hood and down on the traffic listening to the two exhaust stacks bellow their super loud noise and watch their black smoke out in the large rear-view mirror. I was hooked at riding trucks from that time on. For the next two hours I watched him shift those gears up and down as we climbed grades and down hills. He would run up behind cars right on their bumpers and blow a real loud air horn to get them to go faster or move out of the way, all the time talking small talk to me about trucks and stuff. When we finally reached the outskirts of Baltimore, he pulled into a truck stop to drop me off. There were trucks everywhere lined up in rows. As I climbed down, he wished me luck on the way back. I walked across the highway and stuck my thumb out to head home again. I hitched cars because I had to make it home for dinner!