Come on, let’s stop and say good-bye,

Steve’s leaving on his trip, on the road again.

See him standing there

in his hunter’s vest,

the pocket’s bulging

with notebooks and pens,

a small magnifying glass,

and a miniature flashlight,

miscellaneous papers

held together

with clips and rubber bands,

a couple of old maps,

his cigarette papers and tobacco.

He’s holding a small bag

with a couple of peanut butter sandwiches

and a quart of milk,

under his arm,

held together with a bungee cord,

a couple of books, of course,

and the Convoy

and Workers’ Power.

For years he’s wanted

to drive a truck again,

to sit up high

looking out over the road

out to the horizon,

heading for Sandusky,

or East Stroudsburg,

working again,

a freight driver

or a carhauler,

a Teamster,

a Teamster once again.

He’s looking forward

to the truck stop,

chatting with the waitress

and talking to the men

about the contract

and giving them a leaflet.

He’ll stop and see

the Janadias and the Wades,

stay a night with Frank and Ann,

and then drive on

to visit Bill Slater and Doug Allen.

He’s expecting trouble

from the bosses

and the union bureaucrats,

and he’s looking forward to it too.

He’s thinking “We’ll show them

a thing or two, by jiminy.”

You’ve got to keep an eye on Steve,

because, for better or worse

he’s afraid of nothing.

See him, walking up to the cab,

standing there on the step a moment,

with his big shoulders,

his hair blown about a little,

and that great smile.

Take a good look,

he’s off again, for the last time,

and we won’t see the likes of him again.

Bye, Steve, take care,

and have a good trip.

Dan La Botz was a friend and comrade of Steve Kindred, and a truck driver member of Teamsters for a Democratic Union.