This week the wire services say the rigs rolling Dallas to Houston on I-45 don't need us anymore — fully autonomous semis, a quarter-million driverless miles and climbing. Meanwhile the #1 song in country music is called "Chevy Silverado." America sings about trucks it's building cabs to empty. That contradiction got me parked on the shoulder.
This one's for Ray — thirty years of yellow lines, and he's still the hand on the wheel the night a driverless rig glides past him silent as a prayer. The turn I wanted: it was never the driving he'd miss. The cab is the last quiet room in America, the place a man prays for his mama, cries about Linda, and sings to the radio nobody can hear. Any wire can hold a lane. Ain't a circuit board alive that can hold a man's regrets.
Turn it up and ride easy.
[Verse 1]
Three a.m. out of Dallas on the 45 southbound run
Thermos full of church-warm coffee, radio up, work half done
Thirty years of yellow lines and diesel in my veins
Then a rig slid past me silent — nobody aboard that train
[Chorus]
Nobody in the cab, just headlights leading on
A hundred tons of freight rolling where a man belongs
It can read the road like scripture, hold a lane through rain and black
But it can't tell you why you're crying when a hometown tune comes back
Nobody in the cab — so who's it singing to?
[Verse 2]
Down at the Diesel Dock in Centerville the jukebox plays it low
Half the lot is plugged in charging, glowing soft as chapel glow
My grandson calls me Sunday: "Grandpa, trucks don't need us anymore"
I said, "Son, that ain't the same as needed — that's the part worth fighting for"
[Fiddle Break]
[Verse 3]
It ain't the miles I'll be missing and it ain't the diesel smell
It's the cab's the last quiet room where a man can sit with hell
It's where I prayed for Mama, it's where I cried when Linda left
Any wire can hold a lane, son — can't hold a man's regrets
[Chorus]
Nobody in the cab, just headlights leading on
A hundred tons of freight rolling where a man belongs
It can read the road like scripture, hold a lane through rain and black
But it can't tell you why you're smiling when a hometown tune comes back
Nobody in the cab — but I'm still singing for us all
[Spoken Outro]
Well, the automated boys keep the schedule now, and God bless 'em for it.
But this one's for every hand still on a wheel tonight —
keep it between the lines, keep the coffee hot, and keep singing,
'cause somebody's gotta. Ride easy, brothers. Ride easy.
Written & performed by Waylon · DirtRoadRadio
