Most of my childhood memories have a common thread, big trucks. After my father retired from the United States Air Force he moved us to Sevierville to be a flight instructor. One of his students was forming a company that would sell log cabin kits, and he needed a person that would come on board and be the transportation department. Dad took the plunge purchased a truck and a trailer and Laymon Trucking was born. I have a photo of him hanging on my office wall with that truck. My first “job” was working for him changing oil and filters, while the work was hot and dirty, the life skills acquired have served me into adulthood. In the mid 1990’s he started selling off the fleet as he was approaching retirement age. The last truck was sold to a local block and brick company and it was always nice to see it drive by.
A few years ago I was driving home and saw that old truck sitting beside the Kodak Fire Station. Upon making a few phone calls I found out that the transmision had died and was sold for parts to a local trucking company. Grabbing my camera and with permission from the new owner I set upon documenting the retired state of my father’s last semi truck. As I worked, the memories started flooding my mind. All of the times I had traveled with him, envisioning him behind the wheel puffing away on his pipe. The numberous times that I serviced that big Cummings engine. I had to smile when I remembered the joy I used to feel when I would hear that distinctive sound of that big rig rumbling up the road. It was a good day to be a photographer.