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Show Truck Jockeys are Good Drivers . . . But Rough on Family Vacations says "What's the matter?" "What was that?" or gives me a little friendly advice like "Are you going to follow that truck all day?" or "Do you want me to drive' this outfit so we can make it home by Christmas." Christ-mas." I guess you have to be a truck driver. They get used to having to stay awake and going so long at a time. Sometmies you have to mold their hands around the lawn mower handle when they get home to "hot walk" them for a while so they can unwind slowly. They do a lot of traveling, even when they get in bed-rolling from one side to the other and mumbling in their sleep about flat tires and deadlines. And, somehow, when they snore it reminds one of the sound of a Ken-worth Ken-worth warming up. By Mary Gae Evans I guess August is about the most popular month for vacations and the highways are so covered with motor homes, boats, campers and cars it reminds one of a swarm of ants heading for a piece of over-ripe watermelon. water-melon. When preparing to leave home, everyone is volunteering volun-teering to drive, but after the first muggy hot hundred miles, heads begin to nod and the kids begin to fight over the pillows and no one wants the driver's seat. Of course if you happen to have a truck driver in the family, as we do, your driving problem is solved. My husband can get behind the wheel and drive for days without ever exceeding the speed limit, blinking, swerving or faltering. The trouble is, he can also drive for days without a drink of water or a rest stop and no matter how the rest of us hint and finally whine, beg and plead for a drop of water or a necessary stop, he drives on, staring down the road as if he has a pressing deadline at the end of the trail. By the time we finally cajole him into stopping, our lips are parched and bleeding and our bodies are forzen into sitting positions. The same problem arises when we get hungry. He is never hungry. He is one of those people who just never cared for food, so stomachs have to growl pretty loudly before we ever see a McDonalds Mc-Donalds or Dairy Queen. We try to casually mention some husband just can't seem to relax when anyone else is at the wheel. Everytime I pass a car, gently let up on the gas, or exhale, he rears up in the seat (where I thought he was sleeping soundly) and of the nice restaurants as we pass, but that's just what we do.. .pass. That would take too long and he's got to keep moving. Now, if I take a turn at the driving. I never pass up a pop machine, but there aren't many along the freeway these days. That's one thing I really hate about freeways. Anyway, my luck has never been the best and if I volunteer to drive it always seems to be on the horrible stretch of road of Levan and Nephi going north, or where the road divides into four cloverleafs and tons of traffic going south. You know, those places where all the big trucks are averaging 75 miles per hour and keeping their CB radios hot telling each other how wonderful they are and how dreadful the rest of the world drives. Well, I'm perfectly willing to take my turn once in a while even though the slamming of a car door affects me like a lullaby, but my truck driver |