Leaving out was never pretty for me. I remember my premarital counselor said I had abandonment issues, and given everything, I’d say there was something to that. My mother ankled when I was twelve, and Dad died when I was seventeen. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that I was afraid of my wife either leaving or something happening to her.
Happily, she never did either.
I liked listening to ‘Leaving Drydock’ from the Star Trek soundtrack when I pulled out. I’m a little cheesy that way, I admit, but it helped to take my mind off of the fact that I was leaving everything behind and heading out into the unknown again.
My first load going back out was my first HAZMAT load. It was camping sized bottles of propane, and it came with a fifteen minute pre-trip briefing – try not to let the truck out of your sight for extended periods, don’t smoke, don’t park next to an elementary school . . . mostly stuff that no one in their right mind would do anyway.
It taught me pretty early on that it doesn’t matter what you’re hauling. It’s all someone else’s stuff, and it all needs to get where it’s supposed to be on time and in one piece. Since I made the decision I was hauling for a reputable company (and I believe I was) I never asked what, just where and when.
And then I drove the truck. After all, that’s what the man was paying me to do.