Wendy Benton Parker

Meet CDL Life's Newest Addition: Wendy Benton ParkerWe listen to a lot of music on the road. Contrary to popular belief, all truckers do not listen to country music. Truth be known, the only country we listen to is Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, and that’s usually when we’re in Texas, because the fever takes hold in Texas. I lose my mind in Texas, often considering wearing a cowboy hat and boots with my cut off shorts. I just want to fit in, don’t judge.

I’ve never claimed to be a vocalist, but I love to sing along. There’s nothing better than cranking the volume to eleven and bellowing the words. Our Freightliner has a beautiful stereo, it’s like being at our own little concert when we’re rocking out.

Our music tastes vary from The Black Keys to Depeche Mode. We discovered Pandora Music early on, and life has never been the same. I spend countless hours, staring out the window and singing along.

“B-B-B-BENNIE AND THE JETS! SHE’S GOT ELECTRIC BOOBS, I KNOW THEY’RE CUTE, YOU KNOW I READ IT IN A MAGA-ZIIIINE OH OH! B-B-B-BENNIE AND THE JETS!”

“What was that? Did you just say she had electric boobs?”

“Uh, yeah. Those are the words.”

“No. She does not have electric boobs, she has electric boots and a mohair suit.”

“Bullshit. Who ever heard of electric boots? And no one actually wears mohair, it’s hot and itchy and smells like hell as soon as you put it on.”

The miles tick by. I sing, he tries to make me say stupid things, like ‘electric boots’. Pfffft.

“JAMBALYA, CRAWFISH PIE, FILET GUMBO! CAUSE TONIGHT I’M GONNA SEE MY MARASCHINO!”

“It’s not maraschino.”

“Yes it is. Yvonne is a cherry of a girl. “

“It’s machez a me – o.”

“She is not a piñata. She’s a cherry.”

“It’s Cajun. “

“Well thank you very much, Mr. World Traveler.”

He doesn’t sing along much, but he knows all the words. Whatever.

“WASH AWAY MY TROUBLES, WASH AWAY MY BRAIN WI -ITH THE RAIN OF SHAMBA-LA!”

“Wash away your brain?”

“Yes. Clearly the road to Shamba-la is a metaphor for drugs. I can tell my brother, by the flowers in his eyes? Come on. “

“It’s wash away my pain.”

“How do you know they’re eating Vicodin? It’s definitely brain.”

He is a kind and patient man, but no songwriter.

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