Gurinderjit Singh’s phone rarely stopped buzzing this summer as he prepared for an out-of-state delivery from his home base in Fresno. Some callers were congratulating him on his son’s recent engagement. Others were fellow truckers inviting him to join a group call.
He climbed into his Peterbilt, put on his headset, joined the conversation, and settled in for what would become hours of talk with friends scattered across the globe.
Singh, an Indian American trucker who has built something of a social media following, spends at least eight hours a day on the phone while hauling freight, six days a week. He calls it his “empathy call” — a ritual that keeps his spirits up and, just as importantly, keeps him alert behind the wheel.
It’s a habit shared by countless drivers across California and beyond, who dial into conversations that stretch across continents and time zones, forming a kind of rolling community that travels with them down the highway.
Drivers say the calls are a lifeline for their mental health in a profession defined by long stretches alone, sitting for hours with little chance to move or socialize.
“Truckers in the U.S. deal with a lot of stress,” Singh said. “I think long calls are an effective way to reduce that stress, that isolation, that loneliness in the cab — by letting people share what they’re feeling.”
Of course, using a handheld phone while driving is illegal in California, and drivers say they make sure to keep one ear free in their headsets to stay within the law. They also know the dangers of distracted driving all too well, and several told CalMatters they end their calls the moment traffic gets heavy.
The stakes are high every time a driver takes the wheel of a 36-ton rig — for road safety and for a commercial driver’s license that isn’t easy to win back if something goes wrong. The California Department of Motor Vehicles screens drivers’ physical and mental health during license renewals, and licenses can be suspended over health concerns.
Yet the state has never conducted a comprehensive study on truckers’ mental health, nor does it offer a rehabilitation program for drivers struggling with it. If a mental health issue comes to the state’s attention, drivers are largely left to fight for their license renewal on their own, often needing to hire an attorney.
Lindsey Bryan, health and wellness manager for Project 61, a nonprofit focused on trucker health, said isolation is a daily reality for drivers. “We see drivers dealing with social isolation every day,” Bryan said. “They’re away from their loved ones, and on top of that, they don’t have access to a lot of the things you and I use to manage stress.”
Academic researchers have found that the loneliness truckers experience sets them apart from other workers when it comes to how they use social media and digital communication. A 2016 study, “Work Strain, Social Isolation and Mental Health of Long-Haul Truckers,” noted that social media use has generally been linked to feelings of isolation among internet users.
For truckers, though, the opposite tends to be true. Platforms like WhatsApp and FaceTime give them a sense of community rather than isolation while they’re on the road.
“These opportunities would provide truck drivers the social connections they need during layovers, while waiting to load or unload their trucks, during any other non-driving period, or during emergencies,” the study’s authors wrote.
Until She Starts Snoring
The calls might look like a distraction from the outside, but many drivers insist they actually help keep them focused.
“The reason I still talk on my cellphone in the car today, hands-free or Bluetooth, is that it keeps me alert,” said Joseph Rajkovacz, a retired executive with the Western States Trucking Association. “It’s like turning on the radio and singing along to a song you like. Doesn’t matter if nobody wants to hear you sing — it still helps you stay sharp.”
That’s why Gerald Bailey, 53, says he spends 27 hours a week on the phone with his wife and siblings, chatting at all hours of the day and night. It’s become part of his routine every time he gets behind the wheel.
Earlier this summer, he was on the phone with his wife at a truck stop in Lodi while waiting for a mechanic to fix his rig’s air conditioning.
“I talk to my wife on the phone until she starts snoring,” Bailey said with a smile. “Then I let her rest — she’s earned it, and I don’t want to bother her.”
Not every driver has that freedom, though. Some companies prohibit phone use while driving altogether and monitor cabs with cameras.
“It’s against company policy,” said Peter Andrews, 62, a trucker from Texas, walking through a truck stop near Sacramento. “I have to stop the truck to call anyone. They’ve got AI cameras pointed right at my face, so I can’t touch the phone.”
Health Risks on the Road
According to Project 61 data, 70% of truckers in the United States are obese — double the rate among American workers generally. Truckers also experience heart disease and depression at twice the national average, and diabetes at twice the rate of the general population.
Raman Dhillon, executive director of the North American Punjabi Trucking Association, knows those risks firsthand. Years behind the wheel led to weight gain, and eventually diagnoses of diabetes and high blood pressure.
Truckers are “out there on the road. They’re isolated in that 3-by-3-meter cab, and the loneliness in that moment is intense,” Dhillon said. “You’ve got 11 hours of driving, three hours of rest, 10 hours of sleep — it’s a constant cycle. I think a lot of drivers cope with that through phone calls.”
Singh sees the physical health risks as closely tied to psychological isolation. He said drivers tend to feel more disconnected when they’re eating poorly on the road. That’s why his wife, Harjinder Kaur, a nurse, prepares two or three home-cooked Indian curries along with whole wheat bread for him to take on deliveries.
Truckers also describe facing discrimination that complicates their travels, including businesses refusing to let them use restrooms. The issue reached Congress last year, when a Republican lawmaker introduced legislation that would require retailers and warehouses to give truckers restroom access. The bill has stalled.
“They won’t let us use the bathrooms,” said Brenda Johnson, 58, who drives a route from Oregon with her husband. “There’s no infrastructure for us. And these companies we’re delivering to treat us like we’re less than human.”
Exercise poses its own challenge. “We really don’t have anywhere safe to work out,” Johnson said at a truck stop near Interstate 80 in Sacramento. “You want to walk around a parking lot with trucks coming in and out? You’re dodging everything. There’s just no safe place to move around.”
Fighting Loneliness
Even constant company hasn’t erased Johnson’s loneliness. “Even though my husband rides with me and is right there beside me, I can feel lonely and not lonely at the same time,” said Johnson, who has been driving since 2005. “Since we’re together all the time, we don’t really have much to talk about.”
Instead, Johnson leans on two friends in the trucking industry and a handful of close relatives. On an average day, she spends about an hour on the phone outside of work-related calls, though that number can swing widely depending on her mood.
“When I’m in a good headspace, my five hours a week can turn into almost 25,” Johnson said. “But when I’m down, I isolate myself. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I just don’t want to deal with anything.”
José Martínez, 50, a long-haul driver resting at a truck stop near Stockton, described a similar rhythm. He has wrestled with guilt over missing time with his family while working, and now calls relatives or friends whenever loneliness creeps in during a 10-hour shift.
“It’s basically constant, and talking to people is a good thing,” Martínez said.
Talking Through Emergencies
For immigrant drivers, cellphone calls offer an instant connection to their home countries that simply wasn’t possible in the era of CB radio.
The American trucking industry has long relied on immigrant labor. Between 2000 and 2021, the number of foreign-born truckers more than doubled, growing from 316,000 to more than 720,000 drivers. Today, roughly 18% of U.S. truckers are foreign-born. According to the North American Punjabi Trucking Association, nearly 35% of Punjabi Indian truckers contribute to California’s trucking industry.
Singh, the Fresno driver, moonlights as the host of a weekly television program covering Punjab politics. He’s also writing a book titled “Ameriki Trucknama” — roughly, “The American Trucking Saga” — and has built a following of 19,000 on Facebook, where people turn to him for political commentary.
Driving toward Kansas City earlier this summer, fellow Punjabi drivers asked for his take on the outcome of upcoming legislative elections in Punjab, the northern Indian state many of them call home.
Back on the highway, Singh points to more tangible benefits of these long calls — like helping drivers manage emergencies far from home.
Two years ago, he was on the phone with a friend when the man’s fuel line burst somewhere in rural Texas. Panicked, Singh stayed on the line while his friend searched for a local mechanic.
“If I hadn’t been on that call, who knows what would have happened,” Singh said.
Original source: CalMatters
