I'm a driver-sales associate out of Columbia, South Carolina—CDL in one hand,
sketchbook in the other. My days are spent optimizing routes across the
Piedmont and Lowcountry, chasing ETAs like they owe me money, and my nights
are spent translating that chaos into ink on paper. Every highway has a
rhythm. I just happen to write it down.
I grew up on smoked andouille and James Clear at the kitchen table,
learning that logistics is just poetry with deadlines. My grandmother used
to say "every mile is a verse you ain't got time to rewrite"—and
she was right. Now I'm building toward a supervisory role where I can
protect both the numbers and the people who carry them.
I-26 heading east past the Fall Line — where the granite gives way to sand
Recent Runs
Date
Origin → Dest
Miles
Load
Notes
Jul 18
Columbia → Charlotte
202
Textile machinery parts
Construction on I-85 added 47 min. Sang "Georgia on My Mind" to the empty passenger seat.
Jul 15
Columbia → Charleston
115
Perishables (temp-controlled)
Hit a wall of fog near Mt. Pleasant. River breeze finally cleared it. Sketch of the harbor at dawn — p. 43 of notebook.
Jul 12
Columbia → Florence → Raleigh
348
Consumer electronics
Two-stop run. Stopped for grits at a diner off I-95. The waitress knew my order. That's the job—becoming part of places you only pass through.
The Sketchbook
Between loads, I draw. Bridge trusses, loading-dock shadows, the way light
hits a fuel nozzle at 4 AM. My sketchbook is half route map, half visual
diary. Some days the charcoal smudges because my hands are still shaking
from a tight delivery window. Other days it's clean lines and I don't know
why.
Field sketch — the geometry of a trailer door caught between shifts
"The Palmetto Lowcountry doesn't have straight lines. Not really. The roads
curve around old rice fields and the trees lean into the humidity like they're
listening to something. I try to draw that bend."
Who I'm Reading
Folks I've been following who build things that matter:
