Most people that look at me today would probably think that I need a haircut. Because of the pressure of looking professional, along with the headache of having longer hair, I would agree. But deep down, I wish my hair was as long as the pictures you see at the top of this post.
I liked that me. It took me twenty-seven years to get to that me. Then it all vanished at the hands of a barber, and a couple poor decisions in my life.
But I digress.
As much as I liked sporting those golden locks, there was some drawbacks. People treated you differently. Men were pissed when they discovered you were a guy.
I was driving my own truck over the road back then. That fact is the biggest reason I could get away with having that kind of hair and still make a decent living. I was penniless in that picture, but that is a story for another day.
Back to my tale. After my hair got to a certain length, other truck drivers were quick to assume that I was some hot chick driving a shiny big rig. The CB radio back then was the equivalent of chat rooms and apps like Yik-Yak today. You were anonymous and that empowered men and women alike to say just about anything they wanted.
Nasty, nasty things they would say!
I remember one time driving across Ohio on a two lane highway avoiding the toll road to the north. It was a beautiful day and there was a bunch of us trucks on the road that day. Looked like a freight train on rubber tires. A line of trucks passed me going the other way.
Over the radio comes, “Damn Johnny, did you see that pretty thing driving that North Star truck!”
Normally I would just shake my head and ignore such comments, but this time I grabbed my CB mike and said. “I hope you weren’t referring to me hand?”
“You the one driving that west bound burgundy North Star truck?” He fired back.
“Yes, I am the one.” I said flatly.
“Shoot, you sure make for a damn pretty driver hand.” They guy responded after a moment, disappointment clear in his tone.
As if he would have had a chance with some hot blonde driving a truck doing sixty miles an hour the other way. It was the fact that I was a guy that he lost his chance to score.
“You know hand, if you’re going to have long hair, then you should probably grow a beard or mustache. Give the other guys out here some way to tell you’re a guy.” Some other driver chimed in.
“I do have a mustache driver.” I said with a chuckle.
I was sporting a pretty sharp looking mustache at the time.