Gurinderjit Singh’s phone started buzzing before he’d even pulled out of the yard. Some calls carried congratulations for his son’s engagement. Others were fellow truckers inviting him onto a conference call that would stretch for hours. By the time he climbed into his Peterbilt for an out-of-state run this summer, Singh had already clipped on his headset, ready for what has become a daily ritual on America’s highways.
Singh, a Fresno-based trucker with a following on social media, spends roughly eight hours a day on the phone while hauling freight, six days a week. He calls it a “call of empathy” — a practice he credits with keeping him alert behind the wheel and lifting his spirits during long, solitary stretches on the road.
He’s far from alone. Across California and beyond, truckers are increasingly turning their cabs into rolling phone booths, connecting with friends, family and fellow drivers scattered across continents and time zones. For many, it’s become an essential coping mechanism in a profession defined by isolation, long hours and limited access to basic comforts like exercise or even a bathroom.
“There is a lot of stress on truck drivers in the United States,” Singh said. “I think the long call is a meaningful method that can reduce this level of stress, social isolation or loneliness in the truck by sharing feelings with others.”
Drivers are careful to note that talking on the phone while driving is illegal in California unless done hands-free, and most keep one ear uncovered to stay within the law. They also acknowledge the risks: several told CalMatters they end calls the moment traffic gets heavy. The stakes are real — losing control of an 80,000-pound rig, endangering others on the highway, or jeopardizing a commercial license that isn’t easy to win back. The California Department of Motor Vehicles reviews drivers’ physical and mental fitness during license renewals and can suspend those who fall short.
Despite the scale of the trucking industry in California, the state has never conducted a comprehensive study on truckers’ mental health, nor does it offer a formal path to rehabilitation for drivers facing psychological struggles. If a mental health issue draws the state’s attention, drivers are largely left to hire their own attorneys and fight to keep their licenses.
Lindsey Bryan, health and wellness manager at Project 61, a nonprofit focused on trucker health, said isolation is a daily reality for the profession. “We see that drivers face social isolation daily,” Bryan said. “They’re away from their loved ones, and also lacking many of the things that you and I might do on a day-to-day basis that help us reduce our stress.”
Researchers have found that truckers experience social media differently than most people. A 2016 study, “Work Strain, Social Isolation and Mental Health of Long-Haul Truckers,” noted that heavy social media use is often tied to feelings of isolation among the general public. For truckers, though, platforms like WhatsApp and FaceTime tend to do the opposite — providing a sense of community during otherwise solitary hours. The study’s authors wrote that these tools offer drivers “much-needed social connections during layovers, while waiting to load/unload their trucks… or during emergencies.”
Talking on the phone, many drivers say, doesn’t distract them — it keeps them sharp. “The reason, even in my car today, I talk on my cell phone, via hands-free or bluetooth and it keeps you alert,” said Joseph Rajkovacz, a retired executive with the Western States Trucking Association. “It’s no different than turning on your radio and singing along to a song you like… So it does help keep you alert, too.”
Gerald Bailey, 53, said he logs about 27 hours a week on the phone with his wife and brothers. Parked at a truck stop in Lodi this summer while waiting on a mechanic to fix his air conditioning, Bailey described his nightly routine with a laugh: “I stay on the phone with my wife until she starts snoring. Then I let her have a well-deserved sleep and I don’t want to disturb her.”
Not every driver has that freedom. Some trucking companies bar phone use entirely and monitor cabs with AI-equipped cameras. “It’s against company policy,” said Peter Andrews, 62, of Texas, at a truck stop near Sacramento. “I have to pull over the truck to call someone. They’ve put camera equipment with artificial intelligence right on my face, so I can’t use my phone.”
The isolation takes a physical toll as well. According to Project 61, 70% of U.S. truck drivers are obese — roughly double the rate among American workers generally. Truckers also face heart disease and depression at twice the national average, and diabetes at twice the rate of the general population.
Raman Dhillon, chief executive officer of the North American Punjabi Trucking Association, has lived that reality. During his years driving, he gained weight and was later diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure. “They are quarantining in that 10-by-10 cab, and loneliness at that time is intense,” Dhillon said. “You have 11 hours of driving, three hours of break, and 10 hours of sleep, and it’s constantly going on. I think a lot of drivers cope with this through phone calls.”
Singh sees a direct link between poor diet and mental strain on the road. To combat it, his wife, Harjinder Kaur, a nurse, packs him homemade Indian curries and wheat breads for his trips.
Beyond loneliness, truckers describe facing what they call outright disrespect from businesses that refuse them restroom access. The issue reached Congress last year, when a Republican lawmaker introduced legislation requiring retailers and warehouses to grant truckers bathroom access. The bill has stalled.
“They don’t allow us to use restrooms,” said Brenda Johnson, 58, an Oregon-based driver who works alongside her husband. “There’s no structure. And these companies where we deliver treat us as less than human.”
Exercise poses its own challenge. “We don’t really have any safe place to exercise,” Johnson said at a truck stop near Interstate 80 in Sacramento. “Do you want to walk around a parking lot with trucks going in and out? You’re dodging all kinds of things. There’s no real safe place for exercise.”
Even sharing a cab with her husband hasn’t erased her sense of solitude. “Even though my husband rides with me and is constantly with me, I can still be alone and not be alone,” said Johnson, who has driven since 2005. “Because we’re together all the time, we don’t really have anything to talk about.” Instead, she leans on two close friends in the industry and a handful of family members, spending anywhere from five to 25 hours a week on personal calls depending on her mood. “When I’m depressed, though, I isolate myself,” she said. “I don’t want to talk to anybody. I just don’t want to deal with anything.”
Jose Martinez, 50, a long-haul driver resting at a truck stop near Stockton, described a similar pattern, saying he often feels guilty about time away from his family. Now he calls loved ones whenever loneliness creeps in during his 10-hour shifts. “It’s basically the whole time, and it’s a positive thing to talk to people,” he said.
For immigrant drivers in particular, cellphones offer a connection to home that didn’t exist in the era of CB radios. Foreign-born truckers have become an increasingly vital part of the industry — their numbers more than doubled nationally between 2000 and 2021, climbing from 316,000 to over 720,000. Today, about 18% of U.S. truckers were born outside the country. According to the North American Punjabi Trucking Association, nearly 35% of California’s trucking workforce is made up of Punjabi drivers of Indian origin.
Singh, who also hosts a weekly television program on Punjab politics and is writing a book titled “Ameriki Trucknama” — “American Truck Saga” — has built a following of 19,000 on Facebook, where fans seek out his political commentary. On a recent drive to Kansas City, fellow Punjabi truckers peppered him with questions about upcoming legislative elections back home.
Beyond companionship, Singh said the calls have proven lifesaving in emergencies. Two years ago, he was on the phone with a friend when the man’s truck suffered a burst fuel line in rural Texas. Singh stayed on the line as his friend scrambled to find a mechanic nearby. “Eventually, if he had not been on the call, we don’t know what would have happened,” Singh said.
Original source: CalMatters
