Friday, April 4, 2025

Author: Mike Murchison

On the Road with Mike MurchisonOpinion/ColumnTrucking

The quality of longevity: instant gratification seems to mean near-instant breakdown, too

We, as a country that formerly manufactured things like freezers, lawnmowers, drills, vehicles and a lot of other things, traded our “quality control” overseeing for “ease of convenience” strategies. 

Things are not built to last anymore. They are built to give us a sense of immediate gratification, only to be followed by that horrendous sound of silence. That thing we just bought won’t turn on, light up or go whoosh when the switch thingy is flicked.

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On the Road with Mike MurchisonTrucking

Do you really need that delivery TODAY? Consumerism, friction and Trucking

Missed birthdays, anniversaries special occasions, kids growing up too fast, missed Doctor’s appointments, missed community and church involvement. 

Furthermore: Driving in weather no one in which their right mind would drive. Traffic jams in major cities that go on for hours. Shippers and Receivers who are frantic for a pickup or delivery yet don’t want to see you when you arrive. Customers who will not hesitate to levy a late fine on you if they can get away with it.

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Guest ContributionsOn the Road with Mike MurchisonOpinion/Column

Hygiene standards get flushed as COVID fears subside

Covid come tearing out of China like a cabinet minister out of question period. It consumed all forms of media. Disrupted the entire world economy and the lives of virtually every person on earth.

The phrase ‘social distancing ‘ becomes the cry of the day for nearly three years.

Masks, lockdowns….and hand sanitizers. Businesses are forced to put ‘stringent’ cleaning protocols into practice.

It was nice during the three-year period to walk into a restaurant, truck stop and even a washroom and smell that ‘just cleaned’ scent, which seemed to be present everywhere I went.

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Guest ContributionsOn the Road with Mike MurchisonTrucking

Your choices determine whether you exist in a prison, or live free in the wide-open spaces

No Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard song about prison ever hit me as hard as staring at that structure: it was huge. Thinking about who was in there and why had a sobering effect.

Contained inside were those who for whatever reason stepped over society’s line of freedom and decency. Some by choice, some out of rage and some simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They deserve to be in there, some would say. “He’s innocent.” “He’s been set up.” Didn’t matter. They were in there, and I wasn’t.

A stone-cold box with small windows that looked out into fields of lush green corn stocks. A small window that afforded a view of a highway, people moving, life being lived as opposed to just existing.

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