Fuel for Thought

Truck Driver Etiquette

I’ve been driving long enough to know that truck driver etiquette is basically the unwritten constitution of the highway. Nobody hands you a pamphlet when you get your CDL that says “Here’s how NOT to be a menace to society”, but you pick it up fast. Mostly because if you don’t, another driver will correct you with the subtlety of a tire thumper. Out here, etiquette isn’t about being fancy, it’s about keeping the peace, keeping the wheels turning, and keeping your blood pressure below “volcano”.
Take the wave, for example. The trucker wave used to be sacred. It’s not a full‑on parade float wave, it’s more of a casual two finger salute off the steering wheel, like you’re saying, “Yep, still alive”. If another driver lets you merge and you don’t give that little “thank you” flick of the lights, you might as well have insulted their entire bloodline. I’ve seen drivers hold grudges longer than some marriages over a missing courtesy light flashing.
Then there’s the unwritten rule about parking. You’d think it’s simple, put the truck in a spot. But no. Parking lots are like chessboards, and every driver thinks they’re Bobby Fischer. You don’t park crooked unless you want your mirrors taken off by someone who’s had a long day and no patience left. And you definitely don’t block the fuel island while you go inside to shop for beef jerky, use a shower credit or wait for a fresh batch of fried chicken to drop. That’s how wars start.
Fuel island etiquette is basically the Ten Commandments of trucking. Thou shalt pull up when finished. Thou shalt not wander off like you’re on a spiritual journey. Thou shalt not leave your truck sitting there while you debate whether you want the $4.99 hot dog or the $5.99 pizza slice. And if someone is clearly in a hurry, you give them the nod, the universal sign for “I see you, brother, and I respect your suffering”.
Another big one is the art of passing. Passing another truck is like performing a delicate ballet at 65 miles an hour, except both dancers are exhausted and one of them is hauling 40,000 pounds of frozen chicken. If you’re going to pass, you commit. None of this “I’m going one‑tenth of a mile per hour faster so this will only take twenty seven minutes” nonsense. And if you’re the one being passed, you don’t suddenly speed up like you’ve just remembered you have somewhere to be. That’s how you end up with two trucks side by side for so long that the cars behind you start assuming you’re in a turtle race and they are about to maneuver around you on the shoulder.
And let’s not forget the courtesy flash, the headlights that say “You’re clear to come over”. It’s a beautiful thing, really. A tiny moment of teamwork between two strangers hauling thousands of pounds of stuff nobody thinks about until it’s missing. But you’ve got to time it right. Flash too early and you look reckless. Flash too late and you look clueless. Flash the high beams by accident and you’ve just blinded someone who was already hanging on by caffeine and spite.
At the end of the day, truck driver etiquette isn’t about rules. It’s about respect. Respect for the road, for the job, and for the people who live their lives in twelve hour chunks behind a windshield. We’re all out here trying to make it from Point A to Point B without losing our sanity or our bumpers. So we wave, we flash, we pass like we’ve got some sense, and we try not to be the reason someone mutters “unbelievable” into their steering wheel.
And honestly, that’s enough to keep the whole crazy system running.
Let’s all try to show some courtesy and respect out on the road.

The final test of a gentleman is his respect for those who can be of no possible service to him.
-  William Lyon Phelps

See you down the road,
Greg