Today’s post is one I didn’t plan. It came out of adrenaline, frustration, and grace—grace that I’m still here to talk about it.
It happened on May 5th, just outside Paragonah, Utah. I was headed south on I-15, trying to pass a slower-moving truck in the right lane. It was raining—42 degrees, windshield wipers working overtime—and I was on the phone (hands free) with dispatch, getting some details squared away. I gave my signal, eased into the left lane, and started passing.
And then it happened.
The other truck started drifting. No signal. Just eased back over into the left lane, right into mine. He didn’t see me. Didn’t check. Just moved.
I had nowhere to go but the median.
I hit the rumble strip, then the grass. Half my truck was off the road, tires slipping in the wet mud and grass of the center divide. I was blowing my horn, but in my panic I forgot—this isn’t my old truck. The center wheel button just triggers the city horn. No one hears that. I fumbled for the air horn cord and yanked it hard.
BWAAAAAAMP.
The sound cut through everything. By the time the air horn blared, I was already muscling the truck back onto the road, trailer fishtailing, trying to keep us upright.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I did.
No tip-over. No wreck. No collision. I kept the truck upright and moving. I hit the green SmartDrive event button, told me DM I gotta go, and then called my safety manager, and let him know what happened.
But man… my heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. My whole body was running on adrenaline. I was pissed, honestly. Still am. I did everything right—and still almost got taken out by a driver who didn’t care or wasn’t paying attention.
This is exactly why I harp on safety and defensive driving. Why I train my students with real-world examples. Why I emphasize awareness, spacing, and defensive driving. Because out here? You can’t count on the other guy to do his job. You’ve got to be the one who stays sharp.
But it’s not just a trucking lesson.
There’s a spiritual lesson here too.
We live in a world full of people drifting into our lanes. People who don’t signal. People who don’t respect the boundaries. People who want to push their way into your spiritual life with heresy, temptation, anger, pride—and if you’re not paying attention, you’ll get run off the road.
So what do we do?
We train. We stay vigilant. We learn how to respond—how to blow the horn, steer with focus, and keep ourselves upright when the ground under us starts slipping.
In Orthodoxy, we talk about watchfulness. Nepsis. Staying awake. Staying alert. Guarding the heart. That’s not just poetic—it’s survival. Because the spiritual road is just as dangerous as I-15 in a rainstorm.
If you don’t know where your air horn is—if you don’t know your truck—if you don’t know your soul—you’ll get sideswiped. Or worse.
So here’s what I took away from today.
I didn’t crash. I didn’t flip. My load’s still with me. I’m angry—but I’m alive. I’m still upright. I still have a calling, I still exist. And I’ve still got a podcast to record.
So here’s my advice:
Stay alert. Know your equipment—both physical and spiritual. Keep your load secured. And don’t let your guard down, even for a second.
Whether you’re out here hauling freight or trying to walk the narrow path of Christ, the dangers are real.
But so is the grace.
Drive safe, my friends. And keep your faith tighter than your freight.
Here’s a quick update. This morning I delivered that beer load in Hurricane Utah and Glory to God the load did not shift. The load delivered just fine I had no issues. Glory to God everything was good.
Thanks for reading my friends. I’m a little shaken up still but Glory to God that I’m upright and all is well.
-Orthodox Trucker
Orthodox Trucker 