Ernie's best friend, Manny
Here’s the thing. You know what they say about cement needing to stay in motion so that it won’t harden? It’s actually completely true. But does it require an entire gigantic metal egg to spin all day long on the back of a truck? No, of course not. Don’t be fucking ridiculous. That’s for the kids. Kids love it.
If you think I’m going to waste even one instant explaining to you the difference between a wall made of good strong cement and one made of wood posts and drywall, my name’s not Ernie and I don’t drive ’ment.
You don’t become Cincinnati Cement Truck Driver of the Year without being willing to take some risks. For me those risks usually involve swerving my truck from side to side at top speed on the highway in the dark, so I can keep the cement moving without turning on the mixer. Saves gas, not using the mixer. It’s scary as hell, but you don’t hear me complaining.
I was speaking last week at a middle school over in Kentucky—apparently they don’t have a Cement Truck Driver of the Year over there so they asked me to come talk to the kids; typical Kentucky if you ask me, but whatever—and they wanted to know how much cement I drive on a typical day. I said to them “Listen, it’s like this: The good Lord taketh, the good Lord giveth, and sometimes the good Lord needs to build a goddamned basement.”
The local papers want to take a picture of me with Walt Bessiger, Cincinnati Bakery Truck Driver of the Year. And while I know Walt personally, and I believe him to be a good man, I said no—that’s just walking into a hornet’s nest. You just don’t take your picture with a bakery truck driver. You just don’t. First your boys start calling you Cupcakes, then you find yourself thinking about taking that non-union job hauling lumber in Louisville, and before you know it you’d haul dead bodies for the Russians for a half dollar more per hour. It’s called a slippery slope, son.
A cement ship? Okay, that's fucking stupid.
