Harrison Hunkin immerses himself into the uniquely American trucking way-of-life, on a three-day trip with American truckers Doc and Tinkerbell Snow through America’s south
In God We Truck. They’re not my words, they’re Daniel (Doc) and Phyllis Snow’s, the American couple I met at a truck stop on the Louisiana-Arkansas border line.
Somewhat of a slogan for their life, the words are boldly branded across their dazzling emerald-green 1996 Freightliner XL that they call the ‘Goose’.
The two are full-time team truckers and have lived a life on the road for the best part of 30 years. God is their guidance, a Freightliner their home, and the Ruger on their hips, their protector.
Of the three million trucks on the road in America, these were the American ‘truckers’ I’d dreamt of meeting.
God-fearing, arms-bearing, self-confessed Rednecks who live their life between the white lines – the Snows are a snapshot of the trucking culture and lifestyle that has helped build this nation. But there’s a fear their way of life is dying.
God is their guidance, a Freightliner their home, and the Ruger on their hips, their protector.
I joined them on their three-day journey to Atlanta’s Rotella SuperRigs Truck Beauty Contest and found myself desperate to see this culture continue to thrive.
Faith in the fast lane
A firm handshake with a polite smile offsets the pistol on the hip and handlebar moustache when meeting Doc Snow. The former cattle rancher towers over his blonde-haired wife Phyllis, who barely reaches above his hip in height, hence her ‘Tinkerbell’ nickname. Their southern twangs order breakfast at the Truck Stops diner – fruit and water for Tinkerbell, hearty eggs and bacon with sweet tea for Doc (make that two).
“You don’t mind if I say a quick prayer, do you,” Doc politely asks, to which I accept.
As you can tell, the Snows live by faith — and for the road. These days, they crisscross America as recruiters for Bennett, one of the nation’s largest family-owned transport companies. Their job: to find quality drivers in a world they feel is fast losing them.
“The days of the professional truck driver are suffering, too many steering wheel holders now,” Doc says, shaking his head. “Not real truckers. No pride, no passion.”
To find pride and passion you make for places of trucking worship – ideally truck shows, and the Snows are on their way to one of the most prestigious meets in North America.
The Snows and their Freightliner XL called ‘Goose’ crisscross America as recruiters for Bennett, one of the nation’s largest family-owned transport companies. Images: Thomas Wielecki
It’s a dream job for the two of them, entrusted by the team at Bennett to find their next ambassadors for the company, a role they’re forever thankful for.
But how does one get recruited to Bennett? Well, if you’re lucky to have the ‘Goose’ roll up beside you at a truck stop, Doc and Tinkerbell might knock on your truck door if they think you could be a good fit.
After some questioning, the two will record some details and pass the leads onto HQ in Atlanta for further consideration. They have an expectation of about 25 hires a year but only two per cent of the lead cards turn out to become Bennett drivers, such is their strict recruitment criteria.
No strangers to the show truck circuit, events like Rotella SuperRigs are an opportunity to catch up with old friends, represent the industry and gently remind their peers that there’s a job at Bennett whenever they need it.
In their own right, the Snows and the green ‘Goose’ deserve their slot at SuperRigs. Former winners of multiple categories, the three of them have attended every iteration for nearly 20 years, placing them among some of the best and most renowned trucks in America.
“Every time I see this truck, I have to call my brother – we love seeing it on the road,” a heavily face-tatted, diamond-grilled gentleman tells me at the urinal during a quick pitstop (darn those giant soft drink cups).
The days of the professional truck driver are suffering, too many steering wheel holders now. Not real truckers. No pride, no passion.
“I just watched all your videos on TikTok, it made me wish I was still driving trucks,” screams another from a beaten-up pickup truck.
While cash prizes are up for grabs, it’s the privilege of making the yearly calendar that the entrants really want, an achievement they received in 2017.
Before any more urinal-side conversations with bejewelled dentistry, we slip out onto the wide-laned Southern Highways with Atlanta in our crosshairs.
The ‘Goose’
“Buffets are good. Especially if you’re poor like us,” Doc laughs. We’ve ended our first day of travel with a detour to a favourite Chinese buffet in Kimball, Tennessee.
Before the Bud Lights and sesame chicken, Doc bows his head in prayer. “Father, bless this food, bless this journey, and keep us safe on these roads.” Their faith is ever-present — from the cross-necklace Phyllis wears to the Holy Roller tattoo on Doc’s bicep. “God is on the move,” it reads, wrapped around the silhouette of the ‘Goose’ mid-flight.
No American odyssey is complete without a culinary experience. And it was here, over all-you-can-eat for $16, that I dug a little deeper into the green beast we were following and its owners.
The Snows replaced the original 63-inch sleeper with 140 inches of comfort including a kitchen, toilet and spacious living quarters. Images: Thomas Wielecki
“It’s technically ‘jade’,” Doc confirms about his famed Freightliner, and it has had quite the life. Originally blue, Doc bought the rig 20 years ago for $25,000 when still running cattle as part of his ranching business.
“I mean, every third truck you meet on a highway is blue. And deep down, green has always been my favourite. So, I asked Phyllis, what do you think about going green?” he says.
And like everything in America, bigger is always best so the original 63-inch sleeper had to be replaced with 140 inches of comfort. Found in a scrapyard, Doc and Phyllis had the cabin refurbished with a kitchen, toilet and spacious living quarters. Like road trains to the rest of the world, Yank sleepers the size of an apartment capture my imagination. To me, the romanticised image of the full-time trucker and their rig as their home is pure uncut Americana.
“We’ve been out here 30 years,” says Doc, tugging at his handlebar moustache. “One year, we were home for just 13 days. The road is our life now. It’s our calling.”
For Doc, this model of Freightliner is one of the best American trucks ever built, and with close to five million kilometres on the dial – and no retirement in sight, he has a point.
Step inside and the ‘jade’ colour scheme continues. A jade custom-designed gear stick that I’m certain is taller than Phyllis. Then you have the cab dash, sofa, walls and toilet all jade, there’s also a cowboys and Indians theme throughout the truck, a tip of the hat to Doc’s Cherokee heritage and his ‘western’ lifestyle.
I mean, every third truck you meet on a highway is blue. And deep down, green has always been my favourite.
Don’t forget the hundreds of LED lights that the Snows have programmed through an app to illuminate green – a showstopper it is no doubt.
“We’re probably as comfortable right here as we are in our hometown of Harrison, Arkansas, our other home,” Tinkerbell adds. The other home she speaks of is their stationary trailer.
Before their days flying the flag for Bennett, the Snows ran a successful cattle ranch in their native state of Arkansas. Their 400-acre ranch was then taken from them in 2011 in the wake of the economic slump. Having lost it all, Doc fell into a deep depression ultimately leading to a string of heart attacks.
“Nearly well killed me, but they didn’t get the trucks,” he smiles. “Thanks to God.”
While the bank didn’t take the ‘Goose’, the downturn in the economy nearly did – the cattle industry dried up, eventually leading them to sell their cattle trailers.
“We were so down and out, we went months without a pay check, we couldn’t even afford to fill up the truck,” Doc admits. “So we decided, okay, we’re going to sell these cattle trailers.
The Snow’s faith is ever-present — from the cross-necklace Phyllis wears to the Holy Roller tattoo on Doc’s bicep. Images: Thomas Wielecki
“I don’t mean this to be depressing, it was part of life, but we were so down and out, one of the elders at our church asked me ‘What can we do to help you?’
“I said, if we can just get to the Dallas Truck Show, there’s work there. They kindly gave us $1,000 and we drove to Texas bobtail. We luckily made some contacts in the van freight sector at that show which essentially got us back on our feet.”
Stepping out from our succulent Chinese meal, Phyllis leaves to grab groceries. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a gun,” she assures Doc.
“Just remember,” he replies, grinning, “don’t shoot ’em if they’re runnin’ away.”
It’s part-joke, part-serious. Irrespective of Australia’s gun sentiment – here in the South, expect everyone is packing.
Doc and Phyllis’ arsenal includes their matching pistols, .30-30 rifles, 12-gauge shotguns, and even a retired 16-gauge zip-tied under the bed. “It’s not about aggression,” he says. “It’s protection. Always has been.”
We’ve been out here 30 years. One year, we were home for just 13 days. The road is our life now. It’s our calling.
Towards the carpark, a growing congregation of admirers are drawn to the glow of the truck’s
green lights, like moths to a lamp. One such moth, a hillbilly man, with an oddly familiar companion – sulphur-crested cockatoo.
“Its name is Beautiful Baby Ray,” he announces through the window of his truck – the Tennessee-born cockatoo baring as many teeth as its owner.If everyone were the same, the world would be boring. That’s why we have Americans.
Count your blessings
Peterbilts and Kenworths dominate the surrounds as we arrive at Atlanta Motor Speedway, home to the Rotella SuperRigs event.
As we park up, the Snow’s neighbour for the event quickly introduces himself. A legend in the truck show scene, owner and builder Kevin hands me a can of Busch Lite and takes me on a tour of his truck. A music major at college, the striking red and yellow Peterbilt produces a wall of sound as Kevin loads up his Spotify, firing the truck’s 82 speakers into overdrive.
Then, a taste of Australia finds me again, this time through a local truck detailer.
God-fearing, arms-bearing, self-confessed Rednecks, the Snows are a snapshot of the trucking culture and lifestyle that has helped build this nation. Images: Thomas Wielecki
“You know, when I think of Australia, the first thing that I think of is Bluey and Outback Steakhouse,” Oz says with a wide grin.
“Oz is one of the best truck detailers in the country,” Doc proudly announces.
“Man, you Australians have a lot to answer for,” Oz jokes. “My daughter is obsessed with Bluey.”
“Bluey. Bluey. Morning, noon, and night – she’s three, about to be four and we’re throwing her a Bluey-themed party.”
“We got to pay for the Bluey costume to dress up as Bluey.
“I’m buying her a Bluey car – you don’t know where I can find a Bluey car do you?!” he asks with a laugh.
For Doc, this model of Freightliner is one of the best American trucks ever built, and with close to five million kilometres on the dial, I guess he has a point.
The proud father who started from nothing shining tyres at a second-hand truck dealership for less than $10 an hour, now runs a seven-man detailing team turning over nearly a million bucks a year.
When asked if he gets sick of the smell of polish, his reply is swift. “Never.”
“It’s how I take care of my family. I have three children and I can afford to give them everything that they need and it’s all thanks to the relationships that I’ve made in this trucking circle.
“I’m blessed,” he says. “This trucking life gave me everything, I mean I’ve just been blessed, brother, these past 11 years.
“It’s afforded me a lifestyle that I approve of, I work very hard for it, it’s not an easy job of course, but from where I come from, there’s a lot of struggling people that have never figured it out, and they work 40, 50 hours a week and still can’t pay that electricity bill.”
Among the sea of priceless trucks and amazing people, it’s Oz’s experiences that resonate with me most.
The Snows’ stunning emerlad-green 1996 Freightliner XL made the prestigious SuperRigs yearly calendar in 2017. Images: Thomas Wielecki
What is it to be blessed?
Doc and Phyllis have said the same words to me over and over the past few days.
“This job has been a huge blessing for us,” Doc explained to me just the night before.
“I don’t think I can ever really make it known how important this job has been to us.”
What I see as a simple chain of events, resonates with the divine for the likes of Oz, Doc and Phyllis. “A blessing is when things just fall together, like our relationship with Bennett,” Doc explains.
“That just came together. Mine and Phyllis’s relationship just came together. Our meeting of you and Thomas (our photographer) just came together, so it was like it was just all meant to be.
“Those are blessings. When you try to make something happen, you have to depend on luck and my luck sucks.”
This job has been a huge blessing for us. I don’t think I can ever really make it known how important this job has been to us.
Rain turns nasty as I prepare to depart the Snows for the Atlanta Airport – the green of the ‘Goose’ catches my eye and prompts one last question for the Doc.
How did it get the name, the ‘Goose’ I ask.
“My son had a similar Freightliner many years back and got caught in a flock of ducks.
“The insurance company called his truck the ‘Duck Hunter’ – we thought maybe it needed a ‘Goose’.
“The truck has since become an icon.”
Another blessing perhaps.
FAMILY TIES
Bennett’s story began in 1974 when Marcia Taylor and her husband took a leap of faith and purchased a small outfit called George Bennett Motor Express. Back then, the fleet had just 15 trucks and a handful of drivers.
Over the next four decades, that modest operation grew into one of America’s leading family-owned transport companies — driven by a culture rooted in loyalty, respect and family values.
Today, Bennett employs more than 1,000 drivers across the country, many of whom have been with the company for over 30 years.
That kind of loyalty doesn’t come easy. But at Bennett, drivers aren’t just employees — they’re family. From Marcia’s children — David Lowry, Danny Lowry and Lynette Mathis — to every dispatcher and mechanic, the message is clear: people come first.
In an industry often defined by turnover and isolation, Bennett stands out for something rare — a deep, enduring connection between those behind the wheel and those behind the scenes.
