GOOD MONDAY MORNING – Let’s kick off the week with a flashback from the past that still hits hard today.  The title alone says it all:

[ YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH ]

I had the opportunity to sit down with a man who’s never been afraid to tell it like it is – Charles Claburn. For more than 20 years, Charles has been a relentless voice for truckers, speaking out about the hard truths most people don’t want to hear.

In this conversation, he opens up about unity, manipulation, and the ongoing fight to reclaim trucking from the inside out. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s long overdue.

October 6, 2025

When I sat down with Charles Claburn, I wasn’t talking to a man who read about trucking from behind a desk or built a following by shouting on social media.  I was talking to a man who lived it – who fought the battle for drivers long before hashtags and livestreams ever existed.

He’s a name that carries weight among the ones who remember when drivers stood shoulder to shoulder, not screen to screen.

Charles has been speaking out for truckers for more than two decades. Not because he wanted to – but because other drivers, the ones who respected him, told him he needed to.

“I didn’t volunteer for it,” he told me.  “Older drivers pulled me aside and said, ‘Charlie, you’ve got a way with words, and you ain’t scared.  Go tell them what we’re dealing with.’  I told them I’d rather be hauling milk.  That’s how it started.”

The Early Fight

The story goes back to New York in the early 2000s. Fuel prices were choking the small carriers and independents. Nobody in Albany wanted to hear about it – until Charles and a handful of drivers made them.

“We didn’t have sponsors.  We didn’t have GoFundMe. We had CB radios, word of mouth, and conviction,” Charles said.  “When we told the state police we were coming, they said, ‘You’re not convoying into Albany.’  I told them, ‘You try to stop 200 trucks and you’ll have a bigger problem than a fuel protest.’  Guess what?  We rolled.”

When those rigs pulled into the capital, they didn’t come to make noise – they came to make a point.  A sitting governor walked down the steps to meet them face to face.

“We didn’t need a celebrity or a livestream,” Charles said.  “We needed a message, and we had it: stop killing the little guy.  That day proved that if you organize right and you speak with purpose, they will listen.  But you’ve got to mean what you say.”

Those early wins, he told me, weren’t about personality – they were about presence.  Real drivers.  Real sacrifice. Real unity.

The Albany Lesson

Charles explained what made those movements work – discipline, respect, and leadership that didn’t need a camera to validate it.

“We weren’t perfect,” he said, “but we had structure.  We didn’t call ourselves heroes.  We just did what had to be done.  Guys like me were still hauling loads in between calls.  We’d park, protest, and go right back to work. It wasn’t about ego.”

That mindset – humility in the fight – is what made the difference.  The press couldn’t twist it, and the public couldn’t deny it.

But Charles watched the industry change.  The unity that once made trucking powerful started to fracture under politics, personality, and pay-to-play leadership.

“You can’t build a movement on selfies,” he told me.  “Once they started chasing views instead of results, it stopped being about drivers.  It became about branding.”

The Modern Problem

When the People’s Convoy hit the headlines and social-media voices started claiming to represent “all truckers,” Charles saw a familiar pattern forming – the same manipulation he’d witnessed years before, now weaponized through algorithms.

“The problem isn’t that drivers don’t care,” he said.  “It’s that every time one of us stands up, someone with a microphone tries to tear us down – especially if they can’t control the message.  The system knows how to exploit that.”

We talked about the ATU livestream incident, where Charles was silenced mid-conversation for asking a fair question.

“I didn’t come to fight,” he said.  “I came to ask, ‘What’s your plan?’  And they muted me. That right there told me everything.  Real leaders don’t fear questions.  They fear exposure.”

He compared it to an old farming lesson:

“When you want to keep cattle from going through the gate, you hang a shiny broom across the opening.  They’ll stop every time. Social media works the same way – every week it’s a new broom.  New distraction.  New ego.  Meanwhile, the same people in D.C. are tightening the leash on our livelihood.”

The Truth They Don’t Teach

We dug into policy – because that’s where Charles and I both believe the real war is fought.

“Executive orders ain’t law,” Charles said flatly.  “They come and go like campaign slogans. Until Congress writes it, it’s nothing but smoke.  But drivers see a headline and think we won.  Nah.  We just bought time.”

He shook his head when we talked about the FMCSA and DOT.

“They don’t make policy,” he said.  “They enforce what Congress funds. You want to fix trucking? You fix the people writing the checks – not the ones stamping the forms.”

That kind of plain talk is rare today. Too many influencers push narratives that sound patriotic but ignore how the system actually works.

“Most of these folks don’t want you educated,” he said.  “They want you emotional. Because when you understand who signs the bills – when you realize Congress controls labor, visas, pay, and automation funding – the whole game changes.  That’s why they keep us divided.”

What Drivers Really Need

Charles and I found ourselves circling the same three words: classification, pay, and training.

“Drivers need to be recognized as skilled labor,” he said.  “This isn’t fast food. It’s 80,000 pounds moving at 70 miles an hour.  You want better safety?  Start by paying people what the job’s worth.  Start by training them like professionals, not filling seats for bonuses.”

He pointed out that technology has become a crutch – and an excuse.

“Every sensor, every camera, every ‘safety feature’ is another way to justify undertraining and underpaying.  The more they automate, the less they have to respect you.  But here’s the truth: no machine will ever replace the judgment of a driver who cares.”

The Need for a Driver Voting Bloc

We talked about the one solution that keeps surfacing: power in numbers.

“Until we start voting as a bloc,” Charles said, “we’re just noise.  I don’t mean unionizing under one flag.  I mean using our voice as a class – the working class.  The ones who actually keep the lights on.  We need drivers in every district calling their reps, asking the same three questions: Where do you stand on classification, pay, and training?”

He grinned when he mentioned Truck the Vote, the movement that never got the traction it deserved.

“That was the right idea,” he said.  “We just didn’t have the infrastructure.  The ATA’s got millions.  We’ve got miles.  But if we ever aim those miles in the same direction, Congress will have to listen.”

That’s where Charles still puts his hope – not in influencers, not in organizations, but in the people behind the wheel who refuse to be silenced.

Where We Go from Here

As the conversation wound down, I asked Charles what keeps him speaking out after twenty years. His answer was simple.

“Because nobody else will. And because I still believe this industry can be saved – if drivers stop following personalities and start following purpose.”

In a world full of noise, Charles is still that steady voice cutting through the static – the kind of man who doesn’t just remember what trucking was, but what it stood for.

And that, more than anything, is what A Driver’s Perspective stands for.

Will. — A Driver’s Perspective