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First-time truck driver My son and I moved back in with my mom after my dad passed away in 1979. In the early 80s, we moved to Tulsa with her, and three years later she lost her job. We wanted to go home and live in my mom’s house in Rocky Mount. That meant moving ourselves. We would have to rent a big truck, pack it with our possessions, and I, with my son beside me, would have to drive it 1,500 miles home following my mother in her car. The truck was huge, without automatic transmission or power steering. We loaded up and set out. I thought I was doing well until my mom decided to stop at a motel one night. I followed her into a parking lot the size of a garage. She changed her mind. It was a nightmare trying to turn the truck around and up the steep hill that was the driveway. And that was before we reached the real mountains. I am proud I made the trip, as impossible as it seemed. We watched my brother as he helped us unload and cried because he looked so much like my dad. Teresa Gohn |
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