The miles that matter

Sometime between one and four in the morning, while Rutland is sleeping, Wayne Auger gets ready for work. Outside, it is dark and quiet. His truck is waiting. But Wayne does not leave without kissing his wife Dawn.

“Goodbye. I love you.”

A few times he has made it to the truck before realizing he forgot. He turns around and goes back. “You never know,” Wayne says. If something happens on the road, he wants Dawn to remember that their last words were words of love.

For 42 years, Wayne has made his living behind the wheel of a truck. He started at 19, and in 2000, he and Dawn bought their first truck and went into business. He loves the freedom of the road and the trust placed in him to take a job and get it done.

Somewhere along those miles Wayne developed his own rules of the road. One is simple: if somebody needs help, you stop. Years ago on Route 146, he spotted a woman driving on what remained of a flat tire. Her elderly father was with her, and there was barely a breakdown lane. Wayne pulled his truck behind them, creating a shield from traffic, and changed the tire. She offered him $50. Wayne refused. “Pay it forward,” he told her.

Another time, he patched a stranded trucker’s radiator hose with duct tape and sent him on his way. No charge. No fuss. Wayne remembers people who helped him when he was in trouble. He carries their kindness, repaying it to the next person stranded along the road.

“I think we all should get along, and we should all help each other when we need it,” he says.

That philosophy shapes his life at home. Wayne and Dawn married 39 years ago and moved to Rutland in 1990, looking for peace, good schools and a place near family. Here they raised Tim and Jess.

Trucking meant Wayne couldn’t be at every game or family event. Often work took him away for four or five nights. But he kept driving because his work allowed Dawn to be there. While Wayne wore Walmart work boots and drove a secondhand vehicle, the kids wore Reeboks and Dawn drove a new car. His family came first. For Wayne, love was never simply words; it was always something he carried.

This family has carried sorrow, too. The death of their son Tim, taught Wayne how quickly things can change. Perhaps that’s why the morning kiss matters so much and why coming home matters, too. He relishes walking through the door, sitting down to dinner with Dawn and knowing the people he loves are there.

These days, some of Wayne’s happiest hours are spent at the family camper with Dawn, Jess, her husband Andrew, their children Greysen, Lukas, and Benny, and friends. Buying it was a stretch, so Wayne did what Wayne does: he drove extra loads. He enjoys the water, laughter, and time together it gives his family. The extra miles are worth it.

“It’s about family,” he says. “And good friends.” With Wayne, the line between friend and family is thin. Show up, care about his kids and grandkids, help carry the hard things and you become family.

Wayne is thinking about retirement now. He wants to spend the years with Dawn, although giving up trucking will not be easy. After 42 years, the road is part of him.

Ask what he wants from life and the answer is uncomplicated. “I’m a hardworking American,” he says. “I want to get up in the morning, go to work, come home, sit down with my family and have dinner.”

His life has been measured in miles and loads, early mornings and late homecomings, worn work boots and tires changed for strangers. It has included tremendous loss and abundant love.

And tomorrow, while most of Rutland sleeps, Wayne will hit the road again. W