Bill

I had a ride-along yesterday with a road gang as they set up traffic signs and cones on a harrowing stretch of road in a rural county.

The man driving the attenuator vehicle was talkative as we headed out before 7 a.m.

The first thing he said was, “When I get up at 5 in the morning the only people I see in the lobby are guys wearing the construction uniform.”

“Yep. We start working when people are still asleep.”

The sun was shining, the grass was covered with dew. We set off down the road in the big vehicle and almost immediately a deer ran in front of us.

Bill deftly slowed and switched gears.

“Get across there, baby,” he said.

We spoke about the dangers of being out in the roadway to work. Bill shifted gears, literally and figuratively.

“Few more years, for me,” he said. “I’m sixty-two. Still love the work and the friendships, but my body is breaking down.”

Bill pulled to the side of the road and jumped down off the truck to slow down the approaching traffic as his co-workers set out the cones.

“Had a bout with cancer. The radiation kicked my ass. Chemo sucked too, but got through it.”

In and out of the truck another 20 times.

As he drove I thought about how rough the ride in the truck was.

“You do this every day?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Bill said, with a laugh. “No need for extra cardio.”

“So you’re healthy now?” I asked.

“Yeah. Back and knees ache, but you know that gig too, right?”

“Everyone in construction for 30 or 40 years has leg troubles,” I said.

“Still, I wouldn’t trade it,” Bill said. “I’m outside. I’ve seen all of the state. I pack my lunch and eat it with dirty hands. Then I drive around and remember the work we’ve all done through the years.”

Bill handled the truck with ease. I couldn’t even imagine driving in such a manner.

He jumped down out of the truck another half dozen times as I thought about what a hard-working guy he is.

The signs were all up and the road was ready for the crew to get out there and replace the guardrail.

“What’s your next assignment?” I asked.

It was nearing 8:00. We’d spent nearly two hours setting up the project.

“Now I jump on that machine and dig the post holes.”

“More fun,” I said.

He laughed and clapped me on the back.

“I’d rather dig holes than write reports, or stand in front of a hundred people and talk like you do. I admire that.”

“Mutual admiration.”

We shook hands.

“Stay healthy, Bill,” I said.

He tipped his hard hat, and moved on down the road towards the work zone.

That’s America.

Sometimes I forget it.

Hardworking guys just getting up at dawn and busting their asses…

…through sickness, and injury and days when they aren’t feeling well.

Building the country, and through the years, their wages have gone down.

That’s sad and criminal.