Well I've been a trucker now for 20 years
From the Charleston Coast to the Jersey Piers
Sharin' the road with race car nuts and loggers
Sunday drivers scouts on hikes, Hells Angels on Harley bikes
I never met a roader I didn't like, except them joggers
One day I'm rollin' down 101
I got 18 wheels under 14 tons
Radio playin' a good ol' country rocker
The day was surely a trucker's dream
The sky was sunny and the air was clean
When up ahead on the road I seen a skinny, sweating jogger
Well he was dressed like they do in baby blue
With shorty shorts and a headband too
I yelled, "Hey sweetie, I bet that you
Are the hit of the men's room locker"
But I'm runnin' late with an overload
So get your Adidas off of this road
I'm LA bound and I don't slow down
For dead raccoons or joggers
Well without breakin' stride or losin' poise
He said, "You and that rig sure make some noise
I can't talk now, I'm racin' against the clocker
But it's just nine miles to Forkers Leap
And if you ain't afraid to race that heap
We'll see how that ol' rig holds up against a super jogger"
Race? I must be hearin' wrong
The boy's been runnin' in the sun too long
The only place he's racin' to is the doctor
But before I could say, "Hey, thank you, no"
That fool yells, "Ready, get, set, go"
And the race is on, we're off and gone
Me and that maniac jogger
Well, I could've left him far behind
But I played with him like a fish on a line
And I stayed about a half a mile behind that sucker
Then I pushed her up to 45
And he sees me comin' and he starts to fly
I pushed her to 60 and shift to high
And finally catch that jogger
And it wasn't easy
Now I'm doin' 80 and I turned to check
And he's stayin' right with me, neck and neck
His heart's thumpin' like my engine goin', "Pow, pow, pocker"
Then he says, "Hey, I hope you're set
'Cause I ain't shifted into second yet"
Then he unwinds and leaves me behind
Eaten the dust of a jogger
Then I see him joggin' up into the sky
And he yells, "Hey thanks for the exercise
I hope that losin' this race was not too shockin'
You see, my dad says heaven ain't no place to run
And I try to be an obedient son
So I come down to Earth to do my jogging"
Well that's the story, take it or leave it
My trucker buddies, they believe it
So do them race car nuts and Harley hoggers
And I'm still drivin' much the same
Except I don't call nobody names
And I tip my hat each time I pass
One of them good old joggers
And I say, "Hey good buddy, can I get you something?
How about a little Gatorade, yeah?
Oh, that's alright, I got plenty of time"