It's not all bad in the trucking industry. It has a lot of good also. Everyone seems to pull together when the going gets rough. I remember in 1995 we were in Nashville, Tennessee, waiting for a load going to Oklahoma. We had just woken up and gone inside to brush our teeth and grab a bite to eat. It was kind of a strange day. Usually the drivers were telling their fish stories, and one is always trying to outdo the other. But this morning was different. The waitress had just brought our meal when a news flash came across the TV. There had been a bombing at the Murrah Building in downtown Oklahoma City. There was dead quiet in the restaurant. The only thing I remember was silverware hitting the plates, and behind the counter you could hear glasses and plates hitting the floor. There was not a dry eye in that truck stop.

Just then we received a phone call that our load for Oklahoma City was ready. We hopped into the truck, picked up our load, and headed for our destination. The C.B. was alive with rage over what had happened, but there was one voice that stood out over the rest.

"This is Outback Jack. All you hands out there, listen. I have babies at home. There were babies killed in that bombing. We may not be able to do anything for those little innocent babies, but we can honor them. For every baby out there we. . . ."

The radio went silent. A few moments later Outback came back on. There was a quiver in his voice. "For every baby out there . . . get those lights on . . . ." Outback could not speak. For the next ten days and six states, every truck ran with his or her lights on. Through that time, my eyes were so red I thought maybe they had changed permanently.

Another memory came in the mountains. We had sat on a highway for four hours for night-time construction. Something came over the radio just then. There was a driver who had just been contacted by his dispatch. He needed to get home yesterday. His family had been in an accident. They were struck by a drunk driver and killed. Again the tears flowed. There was a convoy formed around this man's truck, on a mission to get this man to his family. There was a team driving. One of the several drivers got in this man's truck when the other could not drive anymore. They stayed with him all the way home. Encouraging words and sorrowful tears were shared with this man. Grown men and women were crying openly, feeling his pain. Drivers swore that they would hunt down the son of a bitch who took this man's life. That night we heard the "Midnight Preacher," who prayed for this man to be kept strong for what was ahead of him, who prayed for his family too. It was all overwhelming.  May the victims rest in peace.