Truckin' with Bubba ... and I Ain't Bubba

Truckin' With Bubba ... and I Ain't Bubba

When we would come to a hill, One Gear would raise the RPM's, take a stab at down shifting a couple of times, rake the gears, and then sit there in a catatonic state staring straight ahead, his eyes bulging with fear, his arms straight out, and his hands frozen to the steering wheel.

One night we were rolling down a long six-percent grade, gaining speed.

"Did you shift down?"

"Yeah."

"Is the Jake brake on?"

"Yeah."

"I don't hear it working."

"It's on."

I reached over and took a hold of the shifting lever. It was in neutral.

"It's not in gear," I told him. "If you think the hand of God is going to come down and put it in gear for you, you're going to see the hand of God a lot sooner than you think. Put your foot on the accelerator and raise the RPM's."

He managed that and I shoved it into a gear. Any gear was better than no gear. When you can't get the gear you want, you have to get it in some gear and then work to the one you want.