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People are getting famous now for serving food out of a truck, or for, well, pork buns. I don't know if I'm really pleased to be a part of that. I'm somewhat terrified of what the future holds, especially in America.
My dad was a cross-country truck driver.
When you went into a Boston Chicken and ordered quarter-chicken, white, with mash and corn, when that was rung up, that would signal all the way along the supply chain the need for more potatoes to be put on a truck a thousand miles away.
I don't think I'm bad for people. If I did think I was bad for people, I would go back to driving a truck, and I really mean this.
The Beliebers have done some pretty crazy stuff. Last week, the night before I was due to do a show in Germany, four girls went into a dumpster so they could sneak into the building. They climbed in and hid. When the guys working on the truck started getting the garbage they found them straight away. It was crazy.
At school I was lazy. But I started working when I was 15, washing dishes at a local truck stop restaurant. I was really, really bored with school, and I wanted to get a job as fast as I could. School was just so easy. There was just no challenge to it.
Always remember the last words of my grandfather, who said: 'A truck!'
I do talk like a truck driver sometimes, or I curse. What can I say?
If he's got golf clubs in his truck or a camper in his driveway, I don't hire him.
The propensity to truck, barter and exchange one thing for another is common to all men, and to be found in no other race of animals.
In the '50s, listening to Elvis and others on the radio in Bombay - it didn't feel alien. Noises made by a truck driver from Tupelo, Mississippi, seemed relevant to a middle-class kid growing up on the other side of the world. That has always fascinated me.
It was the early 1970s and I was recently divorced. I had three kids and was totally broke. I managed to find work back east on the straw-hat circuit - summer stock - but couldn't afford hotels, so I lived out of the back of my truck, under a hard shell.
When I think about the songs I might record, I ask myself, 'Can I picture anybody I know back home sitting in their truck cranking this up?'
I love road trips! My husband and I love that. We bought a truck with a bench seat so we could put the dog in the middle.
I'm an actor... I do a job and I go home. Why are you interested in me? You don't ask a truck driver about his job.
My father was an urchin that lived in Hell's Kitchen. He was part of a family of nine. I mean, there were times that were better and worse, but mostly, by the time we got to L.A., they'd lost whatever they had. And it was a sad time. And both he and I became truck drivers for different companies.
I worked on the United Parcel Service truck, I sold home delivery of milk. But always, in the back of my mind, I wanted to get into radio.
I rode it once, which was up the driveway in the opening credits of the show. I didn't know how to stop it. I actually nearly killed the director of photography, and I smashed into the sound truck.
All the information you could want is constantly streaming at you like a runaway truck - books, newspaper stories, Web sites, apps, how-to videos, this article you're reading, even entire magazines devoted to single subjects like charcuterie or wedding cakes or pickles.
My dad was the district attorney of New Orleans for about 30 years. And when he opened his campaign headquarters back in the early '70s, when I was 5 years old, my mother wanted me to play the national anthem. And they got an upright piano on the back of a flatbed truck and I played it.
Harry Connick, Jr.
My grandmother raised five children during the Depression by herself. At 50, she threw her sewing machine into the back of a pickup truck and drove from North Dakota to California. She was a real survivor, so that's my stock. That's how I want my kids to be too.
I had a Ford F-250. It was a big ol' farm truck, but it wasn't a rig. That's about the biggest I've ever driven. That's what I drove back and forth to high school. I was a poor guy, and it was a truck that my uncle owned and let me drive because I had no money.
I love to deer hunt and fish and drive down the back roads in my truck. All those things basically equal freedom to me - and not having to return that message or call from my record company or management.
My advice is: if you've got to be miserable to write great music, then drive a truck.
Sleepin' in the truck wasn't so bad. Shoot, I kind of liked that, myself.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
A. P. J. Abdul Kalam
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