This poem was written in March 2006 after reading in the newspaper that another truck had run into another low bridge. It wasn’t finished until much later. My plans were to send it to J.B. Hunt for publication in the monthly newsletter. I Never Did.
You see these bridges are marked better than most
Making people wonder what drivers smoke.
The warning signs are all over the place
With bright flashing lights to warn of the fate
Are the drivers just tired or perhaps going blind
But for some unknown reason these signs they cannot find.
No matter how many warning signs the city may give
Drivers will still run into a truck eating bridge.
When a bridge eats a truck word travels fast
People shake their heads and laugh as they pass.
The truck will be stuck for several hours later
And there’s always a picture taken for the morning newspaper.
The driver is the talk of the town, of that you can bet
And people will ask, “How dumb can you get?”
They’ll hang the picture on the front of their fridge
Another driver hit a truck eating bridge.
My momma once said, “If you must drive to live,
Don’t run into a truck eating bridge
I just don’t think I can live with the shame
I’d have to leave town and then change my name.”
So watch for the signs for they’re quite hard to miss
Drivers beware of the truck eating bridge.
By Ken Sayers