Cracks in your windshield, holes in your life,
And you're trying to get home before it gets light.
That old five-ton truck don't run good no more,
Barely gets up those hills with your foot to the floor.
And your horses are tired, your excuses are weak,
And you ain't won a race since seventy-three.
But all through the night, that trailer just sways.
An east wind, you know, always brings rain.
Out on the freeway, those big wheels just roll,