I started driving at Rochester City Dray in Rochester, Indiana back in May 1987. For the first 5 years of my driving career, I drove a 1984 9670 International Cabover. Since then, I have driven everything from a one-stack MACK with a window in the back, to what I drive today which is my 2000 379EX Peterbilt. 

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Everything changed for me when I bought my truck, and then later my trailer. It's a whole different mindset and pride owning your own equipment. I've spent the last 8 years making it into my dream truck. A vision that I had when I was just a kid. It was a proud moment for me a few years ago to be able to put the name "Mason" on the side of my truck when I got my own authority. I'm 56, soon to be 57 years old and I hope to have quite a few more years left in me to carry the Mason name down the road and make my father proud. Between him (Carl C Mason) and my fiancé, Carol, I could not do what I do out here, and I love them for it!

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I have been to all 48 states you can drive to and I now enjoy running more locally in NC and SC. I have hauled everything you can think of that could possibly go into an enclosed trailer. I've also pulled flatbed and tankers as well. Commodity wise, I have hauled mostly produce my whole career but I've also hauled garbage out of Long Island, NY, and chicken fowl out of Fayetteville, NC. I currently haul prepackaged meat products for JBS going to Food Lion DC. 

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I love my  job as an Owner Operator, however it does come with many sacrifices... 

Long hours away from my fiancé (and office manager), Carol Williams, and our family Alyssa, Tommy, Timmy and Abby, as well as our two rescue dogs Murphy and Mia, is the hardest of them all. Unfortunately, I never get to spend the time with them that I should because I'm always out on the road trying to make a living so that I can give them a good life at home. It's the family home time, the birthdays, and all the missed get-togethers that makes our job so hard. When we do get to go home for however long it may be, it never feels long enough and usually ends in heartbreak when leaving again, not knowing when the next time you'll be home again. It is a thankless job that becomes more of a lifestyle. It consumes you from the time you leave out, until the time you come home.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Craig S. Mason