Ahead of us, are massive trucks hauling huge trailers stacked with massive mining machinery, there are pilot utilities with flashing lights atop reflective black and yellow road signs that read OVERSIZE.
I’m sitting in the Roadhouse having a second coffee waiting out the tropical downpour whilst thumbing through the latest copy of “Big Rigs” the trucker’s newspaper. I could say I only read it for the articles, but the truth is I’m drawn to the glossy pics; the sleek lines, all those chrome curves, and throbbing power.
I think about Australian poet A D Hope’s poem The Brides, where he draws a comparison between new brides and new cars.
“A miracle of design, the full set of gadgets, knobs that answer to the touch, a honey of a clutch, a place for his cigarette.” all very evocative and suggestive.
The leviathans of the road growl into the parking bay, their diesel exhaust a whale’s spout. The OVERSIZE people order the Big Breakfast, shimmering in reflective clothing.
Big Rigs has a center spread that gets me excited, A Pro cycling, share the road story.
Us cyclists stand out at the truck stop, captive to the random questions of passing nomads.
“Aren’t you scared of the trucks?”
“No, I stopped being scared of monsters a long time ago.”
The Big Rigs are the apex predator of the road, however, we aren’t the prey. They’re professional drivers running to a schedule.
Flicking further through Big Rigs, I come to the classified section. Seductive advertisements for pre-loved Rigs lovingly cared for and long haul interstate employment opportunities for those willing to have ” A red hot go ‘ please call Gary directly on the number supplied.
I can see the attraction.